


Just Another Soulmate AU

by Shreiking_Beauty



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Child Abuse, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Death Scene, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Graphic Description of Corpses, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Miscommunication, NSFW, No Grindelwald, Slow Burn, Smut, Soulmate AU, Soulmate marks have problems, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts, attempted suicide, but I guess that could be a concern, i am not very descriptive, just read it ok, kind of, like at all, trigger warning, violence but wouldn't really say graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8914450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shreiking_Beauty/pseuds/Shreiking_Beauty
Summary: Credence Barebone adored the inky black and gray letters spelling out his soulmates name along his abdomen, no matter how much Mary Lou Barebone taught him to despise it. However, he dreaded the day he would meet Percival Graves, because how could he possibly love someone as broken and weak as himself?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to do this okay
> 
> This is for my BFFAEAEAE Xenofoxy
> 
> Smut comes later my love
> 
> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ AND COMMENTTTTTTTT COMMENTS ARE MY LIFE

_Percival Graves._

The words were scrawled along his abdomen, starting at his pelvis on the right side and continuing up to his collar bone. It was thick, and prominent, and the letters swirled beautifully. Credence had been born with the soul mark, so his soulmate was older than him, the only clue he had to who it was.

 

It was also a man. Ma didn’t approve of soul marks, believing them to be witchcraft as much as anything could be. She said it was a curse witches put on people to lead them astray. No other sin was so bad as witchcraft, except homosexuality.

 

Ma thought she could beat the homosexuality and burn the witchcraft out of him. As a testament to her dedication, Credence’s soul mark stood out on top of a large burn scar that he hadn't been sure he would ever heal from, but heal he did, and the soul mark seared itself through the scar to stand as bright as ever.

 

Ma didn’t have a soul mark. Chastity didn’t have a soul mark. Credence didn’t know if Modesty did or not, but he suspected she didn’t, or else Ma would be hard on her, too.

 

Credence was instructed to hide his mark, pretend he also had none, and ignore any stirrings that might lead him to his soulmate. He was told that if he ever came across anyone who’s name was even remotely similar to the name on his body, to run away and avoid that person at all costs, all in the hopes to save his own soul from eternal damnation.

 

Credence didn’t believe his mother. He felt the bond with his soulmate in his blood. It gave him courage and comfort in his difficult life. He learned all he could about soul marks to try to decipher his as well as he could, even had an expert analyze it when he was younger and more rebellious.

 

Such a large, prominent mark means your soulmate’s compatibility to you is unusually high.

 

The color reflects personality; a dark gray, almost black, means he is probably professional and stern, the clean, smooth lines show him to be skilled and dedicated, and the bold strength of the lettering say he is a powerful leader.

 

The shapes show how his relationship to you will be. The sharp corners and defined edges mean your relationship will be structured and well-established, no guesswork or beating around the bush, and the swirls represent affection and softness.

 

The fact that the words begin low and progress higher toward your face means that he will hold you in high regard, that you will be precious to him above all things.

 

Credence didn’t believe the last words. He imagined every night what his soulmate would be like, but he could not and would not believe that he was worth anything to anyone. It was said that a soulmate is someone who is perfect for you, someone that would complement you in the best ways and bring out the best in you. Credence believed with every fiber of his being that Percival Graves was all of these things to him, but had the same unwavering belief that he could not possibly be any of that for Percival Graves, that this man must have another name on his body, or none at all, because how could Credence; small, submissive, broken Credence, be worth anything so important to someone as wonderful as he was sure Percival Graves was.

 

Mr. Graves received his mark when he was eleven. For a long time, he believed he wouldn’t ever have one. It was uncommon for an age difference of more than four or five years, and more than ten was almost unheard of. Young Percival didn’t understand how people could ‘sense’ their soulmate out there, feel the comfort of having a permanent companion. They said they could feel when their soulmate was hurting emotionally, and offer them comfort, as well as receive it in return when they themselves were in pain. It was said that sometimes, if you were feeling especially lonely, you could call out to your twin soul, and they would reach back and connect, and all would feel right in the world.

 

Percival was in school when he felt it, his first year at Ilvermorny. Sitting in his bed in his dorm room, organizing his book bag with all of the homework he had completed for classes the next day. A sensation along his lower back, wrapping around to his stomach. It was slightly tingly, but mostly felt like a gentle but prominent caress.

 

Percival, after getting over the initial shock, had leapt from his bed and hurried over to his friend across the small room, lifting his shirt to show him. In his front, all he could see were curling wisps of grayish blue, wrapping from behind but not quite meeting in the middle. He demanded that his friend describe what had appeared on his back in every last detail, which he did, all the while Percival could not help feeling jealous that he could not see it, but his friend could.

 

They took him to an older student that they knew had a fascination with soul marks and had it analyzed. She said it was large and well-defined, despite the wispy, smoky look to it, meaning that their compatibility was uncommonly high.

 

She told them it was on his lower back because he would be utterly submissive to Percival, but the fact that it wrapped around him like a hug showed that his submission was not out of fear, but out of loyalty, love, and absolute trust.

 

The bluish gray color, she suspected, meant he was shy and quiet, keeping to himself, and while there was a beauty to his soul, there was darkness as well. The smoky quality showed that, as a person, he typically remained unnoticed by others, staying out of the limelight.

 

Percival couldn’t be more proud that he finally had a soulmate, finally understood what everyone had been talking about. For weeks, he talked about it non-stop and even began looking into finding his soulmate as soon as possible, but his friends cautioned him against it, because it was always discouraged to seek out your soulmate while they were that young, especially if there was a large age gap.

 

“He’s an infant right now,” they said. “He has his own life to live. You’ll meet when you’re meant to.”

 

Percival accepted his friend’s advice, but always kept vigilant for signs that his soulmate was near. People said they were drawn to their soulmate by an unexplainable force, and that they would feel drawn to their soulmate emotionally, even before they knew their name.

 

As the years passed, Percival felt the pull from his twin soul less and less, and accepted a patient wait.


	2. Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence and Graves meet . . . but problems???????

It was bitter cold in the November wind. Credence’s bare fingers were too numb to feel the cold, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before he wouldn’t be able to use them to hand out the flyers. Having more than half the stack left, he decided to take a small break to warm them up before the five o’clock crowd began swarming the streets on their way home after work.

 

There was a small alleyway nearby that he went to frequently; no one else ever went down there or even looked into it, allowing him a rare bit of privacy. He tucked the flyers under his arm, leaned against the wall next to some crates, and opened the front of his shirt, pressing his chilled fingers to the skin on his chest and ducking his head into his collar to breathe his warm breath into his hands.

 

He started when he heard voices from the mouth of the alley and footsteps approaching. A man and a woman were talking to each other animatedly, but stopped when they saw him. They seemed surprised to see him there.

 

The woman looked at the man, then back at Credence. “What are you doing here, sweetie?” she asked kindly.

 

“I-I’m sorry, I was just warming my hands . . .” Credence answered quietly.

 

“It’s alright, dear, no need to apologize,” she insisted, approaching him slowly. The man followed.

 

“What’s your name, boy?” the man asked, eyeing him suspiciously. Something about his voice made something flutter in Credence’s chest, and he blushed.

 

“Credence, sir. Credence Barebone.”

 

Recognition flashed in the woman’s eyes, but the man continued to stare at him intently. “You’re the Second Salemer’s boy, aren’t you?” she asked, but without the accusing tone most people used with him.

 

“Yes, ma’am. . . W-would you like a flyer?” he asked sheepishly, fumbling to separate one paper from the rest of the stack.

 

“I’ll take one, thank you,” she said with a tightness in her eyes, but still smiling kindly. Credence felt his face heat up as he glanced briefly at the unwavering gaze of the man, and felt a strong urge to address him, for some unknown reason.

 

“I’ll have one as well,” the man finally spoke, startling Credence, who embarrassingly struggled to separate another paper and hand it to him, avoiding his gaze again. “Thank you, Credence. Take care of yourself, and get some gloves, if you can.”

 

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” Credence mumbled quietly before quickly skittering past them and back onto the street to hand out more flyers.

 

The couple stared after him until he was out of sight. “Do you think he’s a wizard?” Tina Goldstein asked her boss.

 

“If he was, we would know it. He should have been contacted to attend Ilvermorny when he was ten,” Percival Graves mused.

 

“You don’t know his mother. If she had even suspected he was magical, she probably would have burned him alive,” Tina answered bitterly. “How else could he have gotten in the alley, anyway? This is supposed to be a private area for witches and wizards to meet, unless the wards are faulty.”

 

Graves shook his head thoughtfully. “I don’t know. But there’s something about him . . . something I can’t get my finger on.”

 

“So, we’d better keep tabs on him. If he is a wizard, it could be dangerous to let him go untrained, and we’d better find out how he got into the alley anyway.”

 

“Right. If he turns out to be a no-maj, he might have some immunity to certain no-maj wards, and that could prove dangerous. You say he’s a Second Salemer?”

 

“Yes, like I’ve told you, they could be a serious threat—”

 

“Enough, Goldstein. I’ll talk to the boy tomorrow about the alley. You have my permission to keep a watch on the Second Salemer’s activities, but report everything to me before taking any action, do you understand me?” he asked sternly.

 

“Yes, sir,” she insisted. “But . . . could I question the boy with you? I worry about him, she’s so cruel to her children, and I think he might respond better to the two of us than one-on-one, he might feel threatened if you go by yourself—”

 

“Yes, yes, Goldstein, alright.”

 

The next day, Mr. Graves found Credence on a corner handing out the flyers again, being snubbed and shoved away by people passing. Just as he was craftily slipping a few flyers into the pocket of a particularly harsh gentleman, he caught sight of the two aurors and curled in on himself, as though expecting punishment.

 

“Credence,” Tina greeted pleasantly. “How are you this afternoon?”

 

“O-oh, I am well, thank you,” Credence stuttered nervously.

 

“We were quite intrigued by your leaflet,” Graves said to him, trying to match Tina’s pleasant tone. “We wondered if you’d be able to answer some questions for us about your organization.”

 

“Of course, sir, but, well, my mother, she has meetings, and she knows more—”

 

“Only if you don’t mind, of course,” Tina interrupted the stammering boy, “but our schedules make it difficult for us to be present to those meetings. We’d really love if you’d give us a few moments of your time.”

 

Credence nodded in acquiesce.

 

“It’s terribly cold out here,” Graves said to him softly. “Could we go somewhere warmer?”

 

“I’m not supposed to leave until I give out all the flyers . . .” Credence answered quietly, looking down at the large stack.

 

“Are you hungry, Credence?” Graves asked. Credence looked up at him sheepishly. “Wouldn’t you have lunch with Tina and I? We would really appreciate it.”

 

“I don’t have any money,” Credence answered immediately.

 

“It’ll be our treat,” Tina said. Ignoring his stuttering protests, they steered the uncertain boy to a nearby diner where they could talk.

 

There were only a few people in the diner and the trio took a table in a back corner. Tina and Graves sat across from Credence, who was looking around nervously as though he had never been in such an establishment (and he probably never had). Tina and Graves each ordered a sandwich and a side of fries and a water. After Credence shied away from the waitress and looked helplessly at Graves, he ordered for Credence the same as himself.

 

They started by asking him a few questions about his organization, which he answered with rehearsed speeches that were hardly informative and mostly propaganda.

 

When the waitress brought their food out, they began steering the conversation to more personal questions about Credence while he picked nervously at his food.

 

“You have two sisters, don’t you, Credence?” Tina asked.

 

“Yes, ma’am, Chastity and Modesty.”

 

“They hand out the flyers, as well, don’t they?”

 

“Yes, they do, and mother will feed orphans if they help hand them out, too.”

 

“And you always hand them out in the same place?” Graves asked.

 

“Usually, yes, or in the same area. I think it’s so Ma will know where to find us if she needs us.”

 

“Do you go into that alley to warm up often?” Tina asked casually.

 

Credence seemed to recognize the change in subject then and curled further into himself. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to be there—”

 

“No, no, Credence, it’s perfectly fine,” Tina assured him. “We were just surprised to see you there. It’s usually empty.”

 

“Yeah, I’ve noticed no one else ever looks down there, that’s why I like it.”

 

“How long have you been going into that alley?” Graves asked softly.

 

“A-a few years. I mean, more than a few, I guess. Since I was about ten, so . . . twelve years?”

 

Graves and Tina glanced at each other, thinking the same thing. The wards had been set up on the alley about fifteen years ago as an emergency area for witches and wizards to talk without no-maj’s overhearing. They made it so no-maj’s wouldn’t notice the alley visually and would not see it unless they were looking for it, and wouldn’t be able to hear anything from the alley. Credence shouldn’t have been able to get into it.

 

Credence looked at the darkening sky through the window. “I’d better go, it’s getting late,” he said, looking at his unfinished plate guiltily.

 

“Alright, that’s alright,” Tina told him, standing up with him and Graves. “Thank you for answering our questions.”

 

“Thank you, Credence,” Graves said, shaking his hand.

 

“Thank you for the food, um . . .”

 

“Oh, Graves. Percival Graves.”

 

Credence froze, eyes widening at Mr. Graves. Tina and Graves looked at him curiously as he pulled his hand away as if it was burned.

 

“I-I have to go,” he mumbled almost inaudibly.

 

“Are you alright?” Tina asked.

 

“I have to go!”

 

Credence raced out of the diner, leaving Tina and Graves to stare after him in astonishment.

 

He ran as fast as he could through the streets and kept running until he was out of breath, stopping to lean against a building and hyperventilating.

 

It was him, his soulmate, Percival Graves. Even now, Credence recognized the pull of his soul that he had tried so hard to ignore for so many years. But . . . he hadn’t recognized his name.

 

Breaking down into wracking sobs, Credence curled up in himself on the ground in the empty street, still clutching the corner of the brick building. He had always known he wasn’t meant for anyone, that he wasn’t good enough, but to finally confirm it so suddenly felt like someone had punched a hole through his chest.

 

Graves was abnormally bothered by the way Credence reacted to hearing his name. Tina insisted he must have been thinking of something else, maybe he remembered something he was supposed to do that he forgot about, but Percival was certain it was in reaction to his name.

 

How could it be? There was no way Credence could have heard of him, and he was sure there wasn’t anyone with the same name in the area. Despite Tina’s insistence that he ignore the boy’s reaction, as he walked back to his apartment and settled down with a drink, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, or Credence.

 

He had stopped by the office after work and his secretary had finally finished researching the Barebone boy. It turned out he was the squib child of a wizarding couple that had passed away when Credence was a child. Since he had shown no signs of magic, he had been sent to a no-maj orphanage where he was adopted by Ms. Barebone.

 

While they had successfully explained how Credence could get into the alley, the explanation just didn’t sit right with Graves. He wasn’t the type to have intuitive hunches or gut feelings, but in this instance, he couldn’t ignore the feeling that he was missing something, something important about the boy. Still, he had his work to be concerned with, and he did his best to push thoughts of Credence to the back of his mind.

 

Credence, in the attic crawl space of the church that poorly passed for his room, cried silently all night, trying desperately to decide what to do. There was a part of him, the part he _knew_ was right, that knew he should forget about Mr. Graves and focus on his duties. He had always known this day would come, and now it has, so there’s nothing to be done about it. Another part of him, however, was just as adamantly insistent that he pursue Mr. Graves, and filled his head with fantasies that Mr. Graves really _did_ have his name on him, and he would take him up in his arms and they would run away together and live in a small house far away from the city where it would be just them.

 

At one point in the night, Credence must have fallen asleep, and he woke up sore and worn out, as though crying all night had been physically exhausting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? A CLIFFY!!! Don't worry, chapter three will be up SOON!
> 
> Follow me and chat with me on Tumblr please
> 
> Also comment!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	3. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Graves doesn't know why he's so drawn to the mysterious New Salem boy, and wishes to forget about him and get back to work. That is, until his work becomes entangled in Credence, resulting in his regular presence in Percival's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Everyone! I hope everyone had lots of love and family and all that gushy stuff but mostly I hope you got some AWESOME SWAG!!! What was your favorite gift this year? Mine was a car decor set with two seat covers, a steering wheel cover, and mirror dice that were all Nightmare Before Christmas!!!

Collin Monroe.

Graves had to have two mirrors facing each other at just the right angle for him to see it, but there it was. Collin Monroe. He had decided to check on his mark when he noticed a strange sensation from it. Throughout the day, it had felt strange, like soft, warm hands stroking along the mark. The sensation went unnoticed at first, and there was something so familiar about it. As soon as he realized it was an unusual feeling, whenever he felt the ghost hands on his back, he forgot about work, forgot about the paperwork, and his boss, and the mysterious boy from the alley, and only focused on his soul mark. What does it mean? he thought.

Graves had a very unusual dream that night. A premonition, really: if his Divination lessons at Ilvermorny had taught him anything, it was that he was susceptible to premonitions in his dreams (even if he had a hard time interpreting them.) All he could remember from this dream/vision was that it involved Credence, his mother, and something dangerously powerful.

Luckily, or unluckily, he was able to make a connection to the bizarre dream at work, when the entire office was overturned due to a mysterious attack of a powerful unseen force. An abandoned building of no-maj use had been nearly obliterated with no explanation. The no-maj’s were blaming a gas explosion, but the nearly-annihilated remains had no scorch marks, indicating there was no fire, and a strong magical energy could be sensed lingering within the vicinity.

The day was mostly spent in meetings trying to determine what had caused the destruction, and though Mr. Graves knew in his gut that Credence had something to do with it or knew something about it, he did not voice this revelation, deciding to investigate this on his own.

By a stroke of luck, Tina Goldstein happened to have a friend in town that had an unusual affinity for magical creatures, and he was certain he knew what had happened. He examined the remains of the building himself and confirmed what several of the aurors had already observed; there were no scorch marks, no points of impact, and no pattern of rubble to indicate whether it had been explosive or implosive. It was as though someone had lost control of their magic and it had simply reverberated through the building’s shabby materials, but for it to be powerful enough to demolish the entire building would take more power than a trained witch or wizard could unleash accidentally.

Newt Scamander then theorized that there was only one possible culprit; an obscurus. Of course, Mr. Graves had heard of obscurials before, but they were so rare he knew next to nothing about them. Mr. Scamander gave them as much information as he had collected, having encountered an obscurus already. Due to the degree of power it clearly had, Scamander assumed it would be older, ten or eleven already, but no older than that, because no obscurus had ever survived passed the age of ten to date. Graves sent his team of aurors on the hunt for a small child of magical origin who might be suppressing their powers. 

He himself, however, went to seek out Credence. If his dream had been any indication, he suspected that the obscurus was one of the orphans his mother took care of, and Credence would be able to help him find them. In any case, New York wasn’t the type of place where a magical child would feel the need to suppress their magic, but if they were subjected to the mad ravings of Mary Lou Barebone and believed them, that might be the incentive they would need.

Credence was once again handing out flyers on a corner near the alley they had first met in, and not having much luck, though he didn’t seem to be putting as much effort into it as he usually did. As he was looking down, he didn’t notice Graves until he stopped in front of him. Credence looked up tentatively, visibly flinching when he saw who it was.

Graves ignored the flinch, though it disturbed him, and smiled politely at him. “Hello, Credence.”

“H-Hello . . . Mr. Graves.”

“I wondered if I might have a word with you. Just a quick one. Will you walk with me?” Graves gestured toward the very same alley, and Credence nodded reluctantly and let him guide him with a gentle hand on his back until they were concealed safely. 

A loophole in the secrecy laws allowed him to reveal his magic to Credence since he was a squib, and Graves believed it was the only way he could explain to Credence what he should be looking for. 

“What do you think about witches, my boy? Do you think they’re as bad as your mother says?”

“I . . . I don’t know. I guess so. Or, well, sometimes I’m not so sure, but Ma says the devil is tricking my mind.”

“Credence, do you know anything about your real parents?”

Credence shifted his feet nervously, not looking at Graves. “Um . . . Ma says my mother was . . . she was a witch.”

“And that means that you have a witch’s blood in your veins.”

Credence shook his head as if to clear it. “No, no, witches make deals with the devil for their powers, I’m not a witch . . .”

“I’ve never made a deal with the devil,” Percival insisted, taking Credence’s hand gently and lifting it to him, palm up, “but I can do this.”

As they watched, a tiny seed appeared in Credence’s palm and bloomed into a beautiful blue flower with a yellow center. Credence gasped, but instead of flinching away from the sinful magic, looked closer at the blossom and marveled at its beauty and sudden appearance. Graves let go of it and let Credence pull it closer to himself, smiling at it lightly.

“You see? Not all magic is evil.”

Credence looked up at him in confusion, as though suddenly remembering he was there. “It can’t be . . . Ma says magic can only be used for evil, except . . .”

“Except?” Graves asked expectantly. Credence regarded him sorrowfully.

“Sometimes they try to trick you into thinking they are good.”

Graves sighed. “Credence. I promise you, I am not evil, nor am I affiliated with the Devil or anyone evil at all. In fact, my job is to protect good people from anyone who tries to use magic for evil. You see, magic is something you are born with. It’s in you whether you want it or not. Men who are born with magic are called Wizards, and women with magic are Witches. There’s a whole community of us, a community your parents were a part of, and you could be part of it, too.”

“Y-you could t-t-teach me m-m-magic?” he stuttered in disbelief. 

Graves sucked in a breath at that, not having the heart to tell him that he didn’t have magic. “I could try. Of course, there’s always a chance you weren’t born with magic like your parents. That happens sometimes.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” he muttered, crestfallen.

Graves took Credence’s hands again and ran a finger over one of the many scars across them. “How did you get these?” he asked softly.

“It’s nothing,” Credence insisted, tugging his hand back, but Graves held onto it. “Ma does it to teach me when I’m bad . . .”

A cold rage twisted in Graves’s chest at the revelation, and he was surprised at how possessive it was. That psychotic woman had hurt his Credence?!

Graves shoved the thought away exasperatedly, holding Credence’s cold hands closely in his own. There was nothing he could do about that, the MACUSA would have no concern with the squib’s treatment, so he would have no legal right to take any action unless Credence left Mary Lou on his own. “Credence, I need your help with something. If you help me with this thing, I would be willing to help you, too. I could teach you about our world, give you things to take the pain away when your mother hurts you.”

“O-oh, no, I couldn’t! Mother only uses the belt to teach me, and to learn I must suffer my punishments in silence!” Graves’s jaw clenched and he made to argue, but Credence continued. “But . . . I will do anything to help you, anything you want, if you would just . . . teach me about your world. Teach me about magic, and the good things people use it for, and the good people who use it . . .”

It was such an innocent request, so humble but so desperate, it nearly broke Graves’s heart. “Of course, Credence. You belong in our world, even if some people don’t think so. I’ll teach you anything you want to know.”

Mr. Graves then sat Credence down, and explained to him what an obscurus was and where to look for it, as well as the importance of finding it. Credence clung on to every word like a lifeline and vowed to find the obscurus for Mr. Graves with a determination Graves hadn’t thought him capable of. They decided to meet once a week in the same spot for Credence to give updates.

“I’ll see you next Tuesday,” Graves said softly, and Credence rushed off out of the alley and down the street before he could say any more. Credence had seemed reluctant to set up weekly meetings, wanting to just find the child and tell him so, but in the end he had admitted that he wasn’t sure what to look for, and they would have to figure out which child it was together. 

Mr. Graves assumed it must have been because he was worried about getting in trouble with his mother. Rubbing his neck tiredly, Graves once again tried to ignore the guilt that washed over him to be using the boy like that. He resolved to help the boy in any way he could; he could use a warming spell on occasion, some extra food, and he might be able to heal any injuries his mother caused him. He really did deserve so much more. But, Mr. Graves reminded himself, Credence wasn’t his responsibility, finding the obscurus was. He couldn’t help everyone who was being treated unfairly, but at least he could do his best at his job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please PLEASE PPPLLLEEEAAASSSEEE COMMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The obscurus kills that senator guy so Graves let's Credence off the hook, but Credence doesn't take it very well, so GRAVES IN SHINING ARMOUR TO THE RESCUE
> 
> OMG TRIGGER WARNING: ATTEMPTED SUICIDE
> 
> I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT TO ADD THAT I EVEN PLANNED IT IN MY HEAD AND JUST TOTALLY SPACED IT
> 
> suicide scene between the **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay new chapter is kind of not so smooth flowing??? but hey very explainy

Credence didn’t go back to the church right away that night. He walked swiftly through the streets of New York, going in wider and wider circles to lengthen the trip, all the while arguing with himself internally. A small, weak, quiet part of him was trying to reason that he deserved nothing less, that this was merely more punishment wrought on his sinful soul. A stronger part of him, a darker part of him, disagreed.

 

How could Mr. Graves do this to him? Torturing him with his enduring presence, manifesting himself as a glorious but unreachable godsend. He could hardly believe Mr. Graves was cruel enough to tempt him so if he knew he was Credence’s soulmate, but how could he not _know_? At least, if his soulmate was someone else, shouldn’t he have some kind of warning that there was a boy out there with his name on him? No, oblivious Mr. Graves will only use Credence while he is useful, and then what? He’ll be back where he started, only this time, plagued with memories of quiet, intimate meetings with the man he was meant to be with forever.

 

Credence let the white-hot rage build within him until he felt as though he was splitting apart, letting it consume him and anything else that got in his way.

 

He woke up some time later, not quite remembering returning home, but feeling much better, as though pressure that had been building within him had finally dissipated. He went to sleep thinking he would use the following week not only to find this obscurus, but gather the strength and courage to face Mr. Graves again with the intent to savor every moment rather than dread the time when he will inevitably leave him.

 

For three weeks, Credence memorized the faces and mannerisms of every child that came through their church. He met with Mr. Graves three times, and each time, had to tell him that he had no new information for him. All of the children behaved normally, none of them even really seemed to care about his mother’s preaching, only putting on a show for her to get free food and then getting rid of the flyers as fast as possible so they could get back to playing.

 

Credence was beginning to suspect his sisters. Chastity was just as fierce in her hatred of witches as their mother, giving her enough reason to repress it. Modesty was the proper age, and had a concerning obsession with witches. Mary Lou thought she had a passion for punishing the wicked ones, but Credence always suspected it was a more curious fascination.

 

He voiced his suspicions to Mr. Graves on their last meeting, but he seemed unconvinced. He had been growing agitated, complaining to Credence about the growing number of sightings and diminishing pieces of evidence. Apparently, there was no pattern to the attacks; no motive for them, no consistency in location, no regular frequency. He was never short with Credence, not exactly, only frustrated at the slow progress, but it killed Credence every time he let the man down.

 

Mr. Graves leaned in close to Credence, fastening a chain around his neck and showing him the charm that hung from it. “We need to find the obscurus as soon as possible, before it hurts someone. I made this charm for you, so that if you find the obscurus before I do, you only need to touch it, and I will come to you.”

 

Credence nodded, blushing at the proximity of Mr. Graves as he spoke to him, and felt comforted to have the connection to him, but felt empty like always when he left him alone in the alley again.

 

The darkness within him had been speaking to him, persuading him to end his torment. It made a lot of sense. After all, what was there to live for? He had been having these thoughts for years, using the excuse that he would meet his soulmate first, and then deciding to put it off until he helped Mr. Graves find the obscurus. There was nothing he wanted more in his entire life than to bring the obscurus to Mr. Graves, see that proud smile on his face. Maybe he would say ‘Good job, Credence,’ or maybe he would ruffle his hair and call him a ‘good boy’.

 

Little did he know, Mr. Graves was just as frustrated about their relationship as Credence. When they met, they would stand close together against the cold, and he could hardly resist touching Credence, putting his hands on his neck and shoulders, running them down his arms, brushing his lips against his ears as he assured him that he was doing a good job. Credence would shudder deliciously when his warm breath tickled the side of his face, lean heavily into him when he had his hands on him, and Mr. Graves was sure he was falling in love with the boy, and he couldn’t let that happen.

 

It wasn’t uncommon for people, especially people much older than their soulmate, to have casual relationships before they met their soulmate, but Graves didn’t believe in that. He didn’t have anything against other people doing that, and he had been intimate with a few people, but it made him sick to think of being in a romantic relationship with someone while Collin was out there, somewhere, waiting for him.

 

Usually Credence arrived in the alley first, curling in on himself and leaning against the wall even though he knew no one walking past could see him. Today, however, Graves needed a moment to himself, and went to the alley early to collect his thoughts before he met Credence.

 

He didn’t have much time; Credence apparently liked to come to the alley early as well, probably to get away from the people that hissed insults at him as he tried to push flyers into their hands. He looked surprised to see Graves already there.

 

“M-Mr. Graves! You’re early . . .” he said quietly, shivering in the evening chill.

 

Graves looked at him solemnly. “Something’s happened, Credence. Something bad.”

 

Credence swallowed thickly. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yes, I’m alright,” Graves answered, unable to help the small smile at the thought that Credence would be concerned about him. “But . . . the obscurus has killed someone.”

 

Credence’s eyes widened, and Graves stepped in to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, looking at him lovingly. “It was a no-maj senator. There doesn’t seem to be any connection, we can’t figure out why he would have been targeted . . .”

 

He stopped when he looked at Credence, who had gone pale and looked possibly sick, and his eyes were tearing up. Graves pulled him into a strong hug, rubbing his back and rocking him back and forth as he started sniffling, burying his face into Graves’s shoulder.

 

“Shh, please don’t cry, Credence, it’s alright.”

 

“It’s my fault!” Credence sobbed, beginning to shake. “I should have found it by now.”

 

“No, no, Credence, this wasn’t your fault at all! You’ve been so helpful, and it’s _my_ job to find the obscurus, not yours. Please don’t blame yourself.”

 

“I-I promised I would find it . . .”

 

“Credence, don’t you understand?” Graves sighed, pulling away so he could look into his eyes. “You don’t need to find it; the burden is _not_ yours. I only meant for you to keep a look out for it, to tell me if you found anything suspicious. . . If the pressure is too much for you, I want you to forget about it. Put it out of your mind. The Aurors and I will find it on our own. I’m so sorry for making you worry over this.”

 

Credence had stopped crying and shaking, staring up at him in shock, and Mr. Graves mistook it for relief. “Thank you so much, Credence, you really have been a great help. I’ll . . . I’ll stop by, sometime, and see how you’re doing, alright?”

 

Credence stared after him as he walked out of the alley, head hung low in shame. He felt as though his whole world had fallen apart. Mr. Graves, his Mr. Graves, his _soulmate_ , had abandoned him, without even giving him a chance to prove himself. His chest constricted, he couldn’t breathe, the pressure built and built, until he finally burst.

 

*

He lost all sense of time and space, catching glimpses of the cold, cruel city he had spent his life in, and speeding past it, traveling farther from the corners and alleys he was familiar with, out to where the buildings became smaller and spaced farther apart, until there were no buildings at all, only trees and snow, and then, a lake, showing black as death through the ice that covered it. It was inviting, dark and cold and empty, like his life had been. What better way to end it?

 

Credence didn’t even really think about it, didn’t care to, let his body crash through the ice and into the freezing water with no regrets or fears. He solidified instantly, tensing as the cold radiated into his bones. While no thoughts of regret emerged, he did feel a pang of fear in those seconds while he was still conscious, and he allowed himself a moment of selfishness, grasping Mr. Graves’s charm tightly in his hand to comfort himself as the blackness swallowed him.

*

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Graves walked home instead of apparating, tormenting himself with his failures. Going so long without finding the obscurus, allowing it to kill someone, making Credence think it had been _his_ fault. As he walked into his apartment, he waved his arm behind him to shut and lock the door, tossing his briefcase away with the other hand, and collapsing into his chair without even removing his coat.

 

He sank low in it, rubbing his forehead and trying to relax. There was nothing he could do about the obscurus now. In the morning, maybe he would come to work to find more casualties as a result of his inefficiencies, or maybe his Aurors would proudly announce that it had been detained and Mr. Scamander had removed the parasite leaving the child unharmed. Either way, nothing to do now but sleep.

 

Before he could bring himself to get ready for bed (or drag himself to the bedroom to collapse into it, fully clothed, as that seemed all he would be capable of tonight), he felt an intense burning on his lower back, like the gentle caressing hands that had been following him around had been replaced with a branding iron. Just afterward, he felt a familiar tug at his navel, the sensation of being summoned, and was whisked away before he could realize the significance of it.

 

He appeared in a clearing in the woods, barely able to make out the New York skyline in the distance. He was next to a lake, frozen over but for a hole in the middle of it that had been broken through, the water still unsettled from the impact.

 

He only took a moment to think of the only person currently in possession of a summoning charm that could have brought him here, as unlikely as it seemed. As soon as it dawned on him, Mr. Graves charged out onto the ice, sliding to his knees and looking into the inky depths.

 

“Credence!” he shouted uselessly. In a panic, he whipped his wand at the hole, blindly pulling the water and anything in it up out of it until, to his simultaneous relief and horror, Credence emerged, and Graves pulled him out of the water and onto the ice.

 

He was unconscious, not breathing, but another quick spell had him convulsing and coughing up the freezing water. Graves turned him to his side so he wouldn’t choke, waiting until he settled down. His lips were an alarming shade of blue, and the water on the ends of his hair was beginning to freeze, so he gathered him in his arms and apparated them back to his apartment.

 

Acting as fast as he could think, Graves laid Credence in front of the fireplace, started a fire, and cast warming and drying spells on him, but it wasn’t enough to get rid of the water that had soaked through his clothes, so he summoned some extra blankets and used a severing spell to cut the clothes loose from his body.

 

He tried not to look at Credence’s naked form as he brought the blankets over to wrap him in them, but couldn’t help catching sight of the soul mark running up his torso. His breath caught in his throat, recognizing the name instantly.

 

_Percival Graves._

“Impossible,” he breathed. He didn’t believe it at first, reading it again and again, but it was there, plain as day. That must have been why he had seemed so upset to learn his name. But then . . . who was Collin Monroe?

 

Determined to get to the bottom of this, Graves wrapped Credence in the blankets with as many warming spells as he could manage without exhausting himself and, after making sure Credence was alright, left to his bedroom to use the floo there.

 

He always hated communicating through floo, but this was an emergency. He fidgeted desperately as he waited for his secretary to answer, unbelievably relieved when she finally did. She seemed surprised and slightly disturbed to hear from him.

 

“Mr. Graves? Did . . . did I forget something?” she asked with the attitude that she hoped this wasn’t a social call.

 

“I’m sorry for disturbing you at home, but this is an emergency,” Graves explained. “Do you remember when I had you look into that New Salem boy? The Squib?”

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

Graves leaned forward eagerly. “Do you remember the boy’s birth name?”

 

“Um, yeah, it was Monroe . . . Collin, I think. Collin Monroe. I could double check, if you need me to?” she mumbled the last part, clearly hoping he wouldn’t need her to do so.

 

Graves sat silently for a moment. “No, thank you, that’s all I needed. Thank you.”

 

He dismissed the floo and slowly walked back to his living room. The color was returning to Credence—Collin’s— _Credence’s_ face, and his breathing was evening out, like he was only peacefully sleeping. Graves gently stroked his hair back from his face, tears welling up in his eyes.

 

“Oh, Collin, why didn’t I see it? Why didn’t I recognize you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the suicide scene was a little underwhelmed and the soulmate thing was rushed maybe? But I was kind of trying to get to the point, since the next chapter gets pretty in-depth about what happened here. Just be grateful for the update and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT I FEED OFF OF THEM


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graves and Credence talk. Graves invites him to drop everything and live with him, but Credence panics (they're really writing the story themselves here, I just type ok).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG super long chapter sorry for late update
> 
> MILD SHORT MASTURBATION SCENE for Xenofoxy, sorry so terrible, the powers that be have smitten me with an terrible ailment for this sin (srsly i feel like worse than shit and i have no more call ins so hello walmart)
> 
> Update: have overcome my fever, rewritten masturbation scene, still terrible

Credence had never been so warm in his life. He was surrounded by softness, and a warmth coursed through his very bones like magic. He wondered briefly if it was magic, if maybe Mr. Graves had come to his room and gave him a magical blanket that was soft and warm and took away the sharp springs in his mattress, all as a treat for Credence. He remembered, then, that he actually should be submerged in a lake, ice freezing over him and trapping him there until next spring.

Ah, I’m dead, Credence realized contentedly. Was this what death would be like forever? It was different than he had expected. Many people said you would be greeted by your friends and loved ones, but he had none, so it made sense that he was alone. He felt slightly disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to check in on Mr. Graves, but the hazy dreamlike state, warm and comfortable, would be a pleasant eternity.

Although, it soon became apparent that he was lying on a flat surface, which seemed strange for someone without a body. But he did have a body, and it was becoming stiff, and he couldn’t move, and his muscles were sore and he began to ache. Besides, shouldn’t he be in hell? If the soreness and restriction of movement was all there was to hell, it seemed a little underwhelming, though he supposed an eternity like this could be quite disturbing.

His surroundings began to clear up, and he could feel the texture of the blanket he was wrapped in, see the flickering orange light through his closed eyelids, and hear the crackling of a fire. He soon regained control of his body, shifting slightly in the tight blankets and letting out a groan.

“Credence?” he heard, making him stiffen.

“Mr. . . . Graves?” he groaned, trying to open his eyes. Mr. Graves pulled him into a sitting position and held him tightly.

“Thank the stars you’re alright!” he sighed into him. 

“What happened?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you.” Graves pulled him away to look at him sternly. “I found you at the bottom of a freezing lake. How did you ever manage to get there?”

Credence thought about it for a second. “I don’t remember. I was trying to leave, I think, and I saw the lake, so . . .”

“How could you do that, Credence? What were you thinking?” Graves shook him, gently, tears welling up in his eyes. “You had me worried sick, I thought I’d lost you! Why would you do something like that?”

Credence looked away, ashamed of himself. “I thought you wouldn’t care.”

“Credence . . . why would you think that? I . . . care about you so much, more than anyone in my life. . . This is all my fault. I should have told you how important you were to me, and I certainly shouldn’t have left you to that no-maj woman. I’m so sorry, Credence.”

“No, it wasn’t your fault, really! I was planning on it for a long time, but I wanted to find your obscurus first, then you said you didn’t need me anymore . . .”

Graves squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, opening his mouth to protest, but Credence froze, flinching into himself. 

“Mr. Graves . . . where are my clothes?”

“. . . They were wet, Credence, and freezing,” Graves explained, trying to mask his guilt. “I’ve got them drying now, but I couldn’t leave them on you.”

Credence looked away from him, trembling with mortification. Not only had Graves saved him from his embarrassingly failed suicide, he had now been exposed to his thin, pale body, probably seeing his intimate areas, and most definitely his soul mark.

“I-I can explain . . . the soul mark, I mean, I know you don’t – that I’m not—”

“Credence, you don’t have anything to explain. In fact, I have something to explain to you, and I owe you an apology.”

“You . . . you do?” Credence asked tentatively, looking up at him shyly through his eyelashes. 

“Yes. I knew you were my soulmate. I could . . . feel it, somehow. I’m sorry for not realizing it sooner, but it never occurred to me that you could have been born with a different name.”

“A different name? What do you mean?”

“Do you remember anything about your life before Mary Lou adopted you?” he asked softly.

Credence shook his head. “Not really. I was four when she took me in. I remember the orphanage was crowded and cold, the other kids were loud. I was excited when Mary Lou adopted me because her home would be quiet, but . . . it was too quiet. It scared me.”

“But Mary Lou changed your name, didn’t she?” Graves prodded.

“I don’t . . . I don’t think so . . .” thinking about it, he couldn’t remember exactly when Mary Lou told him he would be expected to answer to Credence, but he could vaguely recall being called on and not recognizing the name at first, and being punished for not answering fast enough. “I guess she did. I don’t remember my old name, though.”

Graves sighed. He was hoping Credence would remember his name so he would understand his own soul mark, correctly thinking that Credence may be reluctant to believe the strange name on Graves’s back was meant to be him.

“You remember when I told you your mother was a witch?” Graves asked, and Credence nodded. “I knew this because I had my secretary do some research, but I never bothered to ask your birth name. I did ask her though, after I saw your soul mark.”

Credence allowed a fragile hopefulness to fill him, watching Graves get to his knees, facing away from him, and lift his shirt. 

“Collin Monroe,” Credence breathed, reading the words aloud. There was a flicker of recognition in his mind, and he subconsciously reached out to run his fingers along the beautiful soft swirls that spelled the name.

Graves twitched when he felt the tentative fingertips make contact with his bare skin, but didn’t move away, instead sinking into the sensation. It felt so similar to the illusory caresses he had been experiencing since meeting him, but so much more substantial. 

“It’s you, Credence. That was the name your birth mother gave you.” He tried to think of something else to say, certain Credence was overwhelmed, but what could he say? He didn’t want to comfort him, it wasn’t bad news, and another apology didn’t feel right either. Just as he was about to turn around and reassure him that he would be there for him from now on, Credence’s hands slid boldly around his middle, the same way the ghost hands had so many times before, and he leaned his head forward to rest on the small of Graves’s back, holding him tightly for support, trembling and crying softly. Graves could feel the warm puffs of his breath on his skin, listening to the shuddering breaths and letting the news sink in for a moment before he turned around and sank to his knees, pulling Credence into himself. They held each other tightly, Credence’s sobs strengthening as thick tears spilled down his face. As the sobbing began to die down, Graves shushed him and rocked him gently.

“I-I’m sorry,” Credence muttered against Graves’s shoulder, “I just . . . I never thought I would . . . that I could be good enough for someone to . . .”

“My sweet boy, don’t you understand? You’re so special, so strong! You’re worth so much more than you could ever imagine! I can’t even believe how lucky I am that I get to have you. All those people who have already met their soulmates, they say they are the best people in the world, the sweetest, the kindest, the most beautiful. But how can that be, when you are here, all of those things and more?”

Credence broke down into sobs again at that, hardly used to a simple compliment, and now overwhelmed by the worshipful words. Graves pressed his lips into Credence’s hair, kissing him lower and lower down the side of his face before carefully bringing them to his lips. Credence held still, waiting for the kiss but not participating, whether out of shyness or because he didn’t know what to do, Graves didn’t know. He didn’t resist, however, and had parted his lips in anticipation, so Graves took that as his permission and pressed forward gently.

Credence’s lips were soft and pliant, a bit chapped from standing outside in the cold day after day, but warm from the spells. His breath hitched, but he continued to hold still and let Graves take control, not even sure what he wanted. The first kiss was very chaste, just a firm press of lips, held for a moment, and then pulled back. He kissed him a few more times like that, then moving his lips against Credence’s, moving one hand around the back of his head and the other to his back, pulling him closer to him as he used his lips to open Credence’s. Credence let out a strangled moan as Graves let his tongue slide along his lower lip, but stiffened when a pleasurable heat pooled between his legs.

“W-wait . . . Mr. Graves . . .” Credence stuttered, pulling away slightly.

“Yes, Credence?” Graves breathed, still leaning in close.

“I-I’d really like my clothes now . . .”

Graves tried not to frown at that. It was kind of a step backwards, but he could understand Credence being uncomfortable at first. Besides, there were some other things he needed to speak with Credence about, and he was becoming distracted. “Of course, baby doll. They should be dry now, they’re just on the chair here.”

He stood up and retrieved the clothes, kneeling back down to hand them to him, when he noticed that the blankets he had been wrapped in had opened and fallen away at the front, and Graves studied his name on Credence’s chest, reverently running his fingers along it. His ministrations stuttered when he noticed the scar tissue surrounding the mark.

“How did this happen?” he asked quietly while Credence tried to straighten out his shirt without disturbing Grave’s pleasant touches.

“Oh . . . Ma did that,” he admitted. “I don’t really remember. She said my mark was distracting me and leading me to sin, so she tried to burn it away. It didn’t work, though.”

Graves froze, feeling sick at the thought. He recalled all the times he had seen Credence and sent him home, the heavy feeling in his gut that something was wrong, that he should do something, but stubbornly ignoring it as something he had no business interfering with, that the obvious abuse was just another no-maj tragedy he couldn’t help, like the starving orphans that roamed the streets, the unfair working conditions in the factories, the illnesses that could easily be cured with magic but were fatal for the no-majs.

Graves gave out a longsuffering sigh. “Merlin, I had no idea it was so bad! I knew she belted you but . . . I guess I couldn’t admit to myself that I was leaving you in such an environment. I can never apologize enough for that. All those times I sent you to that hellhole. Soulmate or not, I’m a terrible person for doing nothing, using you to my own ends and damning you to that madwoman!”

“It wasn’t like that, Mr. Graves,” Credence insisted, having buttoned up his shirt and blushing deeply as he separated his underwear from the pile of clothes. “I couldn’t have asked any more of you . . . meeting with you was the only thing I looked forward to every week.”

“How could you do it, though?” Graves wondered curiously. “How could you look me in the eye and know that I was your soulmate? What did you think I was thinking? That I just didn’t know, or chose to ignore it?”

Credence avoided eye contact as he struggled to get his underwear up his legs without moving the blanket out of the way and exposing himself. Graves respectfully turned away to give him some privacy, choosing not to comment on the fact that he had technically seen everything already.

“Well, I never thought I could be anyone’s soulmate. I thought whoever Percival Graves was would have someone else’s name on him. When you didn’t recognize me, I figured I was right.”

“Didn’t it bother you? I don’t think I could have gone on seeing my soulmate if he didn’t recognize me.”

“It upset me, but when you said you needed my help . . . I think a part of me believed that maybe that was my purpose, that was why I had your name but you didn’t have mine. I wanted to prove that I was worth something to you.”

“So, when I told you not to help me anymore . . . that’s when you decided to . . .”

Credence looked down shamefully, fastening his pants around his hips. “No . . . I’d been thinking about it for a while. A year or two. There was a part of me, a dark part, that wanted to do it right away, but . . . I was still hopeful. I kept making excuses, wanting to wait a little longer to see if it would get better. It was hard when I met you. It was kind of better and worse at the same time.”

Graves sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair and standing. “You’d think soulmarks would make all of this easier.”

Credence smiled sadly. “Well, it’s not as though you would have cared about me if you hadn’t found out I was your soulmate,” he remarked with faked nonchalance as he put on his vest.

“Oh, that’s just not true,” Graves sighed, turning around now that Credence was almost fully clothed. He stepped up to him and put his hands on his shoulders, bending his head to look into Credence’s downcast eyes. “I’ve cared deeply for you since I met you. I just . . . tried to deny how much I cared about you, because I thought, in a way, I was betraying Collin by admitting my feelings for you.”

Credence bent his head forward until it was resting on Graves’s shoulder. “I still can’t believe it. What if I really did die? What if this is just my personal heaven? It certainly seems that way, so perfect, but then again, I don’t suppose you go to heaven if you kill yourself. It’s a sin.”

“I don’t know anything about heaven, or sins, but I can tell you for certain that you’re not dead, this is real.”

Credence blushed and looked down with a small smile, tugging his jacket into place. “I should go,” he said quietly, and it sounded like a shy lover who had already stayed too late trying not to show how eagerly they wanted to stay.

He frowned, however, when his eyes landed on the last item of clothing, lying twisted up on the floor like a snake: the infamous belt. His hands twitched toward it reluctantly. It was Graves, however, who bent to pick it up, but he didn’t hand it to Credence, instead, holding it between them.

“You don’t have to go back,” he offered. “I can understand if you want to take this slow, but I can’t send you back to that psychotic religious fanatic. I have a spare room, you’d have your own bed, your own clothes, there are books for you to read, I can teach you about our world, there are even jobs you could get. Please, stay with me.”

Credence looked at him hopefully. “I . . . I couldn’t . . . that’s my life . . . you can’t just steal me away and make all of my dreams come true . . .”

“I know the change will be difficult,” Graves amended. “I don’t expect your problems to magically disappear. It will be hard for me as well. I’ve never so much as had an intimate relationship with anyone, haven’t shared close living quarters with anyone since school. And it’s not as though I’m without my flaws. I may be your soulmate, but if we live together, you’re going to find out some things about me that you don’t like. It’s not typical to jump into a relationship like this. But, the alternative . . . do you really want to go back there? You know as soon as you walk in that door she’ll be upon you, you’ve been missing all night.”

Credence’s expression turned worried. “W-what time is it?”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about that if you stayed,” Graves presented, cradling his head in his hands. “You would never have to see any of them ever again.”

“I can’t leave them, my sisters . . . Ma is easier on them, but that’s just because I’m there to protect them! If I leave, she’ll turn on Chastity or-or Modesty . . . she’s so young, she still has so much light in her, I can’t abandon her to have it taken away by Ma’s beatings!”

“You didn’t seem concerned about that when you tried to kill yourself,” Graves reasoned without thinking, instantly regretting it when Credence’s eyes widened and he flinched back from him, but he wasn’t hurt by the words, only realizing their truth.

“No . . . no! That wasn’t me!” Credence gasped, panicking. “I don’t want to kill myself! I don’t want to abandon my sisters!”

“Shh, Credence, I’m sorry—”

“It wasn’t me! It was the darkness! It’s always telling me to hurt myself, to hurt other people, but I don’t want to hurt anyone!” Tears poured down Credence’s face and he wrapped his arms around himself tightly. “I just want to go home! I’m so sorry, I just want to go home!”

“Shush, Credence, it’s alright. If you want to go home, I’ll take you home. I’ll let you think about it, we don’t have to rush into anything, okay?”

Without answering, Credence snatched his belt back and secured it around his hips, shaking from the continuing panic. Graves wrapped his arms around him and apparated them to an alley near the church, walking him quickly to the mouth of it so he could see it. It was completely dark, no lights inside, and it was plenty late enough for them to all be asleep. Credence stepped forward to go to the church, but Graves stopped him.

“Please, Credence, I beg you to reconsider. Just stay with me. Start a new life. Forget about them.”

Credence shook his head, refusing to meet Graves’s eyes.

Graves swallowed the lump that rose in his throat and nodded. “Alright, it’s your decision. Do you still have the charm I gave you?”

Credence nodded and lifted the chain out of his shirt to show him.

“Good, good. Listen, Credence, you touch this and I’ll come to you, no matter what time it is, no matter what I’m doing or who I’m with. You are my number one priority, do you understand? Touch this if you’re ever in trouble, or you’re hurting, or if you’re lonely, or any reason you want to see me, alright? Promise me you will.”

“I promise,” Credence said quietly. Graves held his shoulders and pressed a firm kiss to the top of his head.

“I’ll-I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? Bright and early, before work, I’ll come check on you.”

Credence looked like he wanted to say something, but he stopped himself and walked briskly across the street, disappearing into the church. He crept inside and through to the little home they had in the back. He couldn’t make out the time on the mantle clock, but he could tell it was late. He had come home late before, after his sisters had gone to bed, but Mary Lou had been waiting up for him. He knew she would be furious in the morning, and he shuddered at the thought of facing her wrath.

He snuck silently to the attic broom cupboard that passed for his room. The ceiling sloped dramatically so that he could scarcely stand up straight in it. There was a window taking up most of the space on the ceiling, but the view was only the worn side of the building next to them. He had a small, dirty mirror anchored to the wall by his bed, and the only furniture was a little stool that he used as a table, and a shabby, springy mattress with a thin blanket and what had once been a pillow. His sisters’ room was bigger and they had larger, more comfortable beds, but they shared the space and didn’t have a door, and Credence was grateful for the privacy.

He couldn’t stretch out his long legs on the bed, but it was warmer to curl up on it anyway. He faced away from the window, always weary of the moonlight trickling in, like it was watching and judging him. 

His tears had run out from all the crying he had done at Grave’s house, so he stared at the wall numbly, thinking about Mr. Graves’s offer to stay with him. Of course it was appealing, of course it was. Too good to be true. And he needed to be careful. In his experience, it was always when things seemed to be getting better that they would suddenly get much worse.

What Mr. Graves had said about living together, though . . . that really made him nervous. He said Credence would find out things about him he wouldn’t like, but that didn’t bother Credence. All he wanted was to be fed and clothed, and to be touched . . . to be touched the way Mr. Graves touched him, softly and lovingly, like he was something precious . . . if he continued to do that, Credence would gladly suffer beatings equivalent to what his Ma gave him. She never touched him like that, like a mother should.

He remembered the feeling of Mr. Graves’s warm, strong hands on his thin shoulders, stroking his arms and back and face, and his lips. That kiss . . . the mere thought of it sent another spike of heat to his groin, and he squeezed his legs together to stop it. The pressure only served to make it worse, of course. He fisted the sheets and suppressed a groan as his arousal grew.

What would Mr. Graves think if he knew he was having such sinful thoughts? The charm he had given him was sitting on the stool-table, but what if it slipped and landed on him and summoned Mr. Graves here, to see him curled up on his bed, still fully clothed, with his hands between his legs and his face twisted in ecstasy?

He was disgusting, he knew, but he couldn’t help wondering if Mr. Graves would think so. He seemed so contrary to everything he had been brought up to believe. He called him beautiful, strong, he wanted to be near him, he said he wasn’t a sinner and that witchcraft was something wonderful, not evil. He had even kissed him, a chaste enough action for two soulmates, something his mother taught him was sinful. Sex was meant to be between a man and a wife, only for the purpose of creating children and never for pleasure. While she couldn’t rightfully say kissing was sinful, she insisted it escalated to pleasurable sex, which was an especially abominable sin between two men.

The memory of Graves running his tongue seductively along Credence’s lip was enough to pull a quiet whimper from him, and he started thrusting his hips into his hands, gasping at the pleasure that coursed through him. It wasn’t the first time he had touched himself, he had several times in the past succumbed to the desperation to relieve himself of the mounting pressure in his groin, though each time he broke down afterwards, praying for forgiveness and help to resist it in the future.

And how could he be expected to resist this time? With the physical intimacy of his soulmate so recent he could still feel his warmth, the aching hardness pressing against his pants that were much too tight. Unable to resist any longer, he popped open the hooks holding the front of his pants closed and pushed his underwear down, freeing his cock to the cold attic air.

Credence breathed into his hand to warm it, but it was still cold when he wrapped it around his dick. His long fingers overlapped the tip of his thumb when he held it snugly, and it was quite a bit longer than the width of his hand. He had never seen another man’s prick, and having nothing to compare his to, he was extremely self-conscious of it. He tried not to look at it when he touched himself, but now, he studied it, trying to imagine what Mr. Graves might look like.

Mr. Graves was no taller than him, maybe even shorter if he would stand up straight, but his build was bigger. Would the proportions reflect in his member? Credence imagined it would be bigger than his own, more prominent to show how much more powerful he was than Credence. Credence’s was pale flesh colored, but red at the tip. It was soft and smooth, and he could feel the rough scars on his hands as he moved them up and down, twisting gently.

“Uh . . . uhhh, Mr. Graves . . .” he gasped, the pressure building and radiating through his body. He imagined the charm activating, Mr. Graves appearing, and far from being disgusted, his arousal would match Credence’s, and he would kneel on the floor behind him, reaching out and around him to replace Credence’s hand with his own. Credence would be startled at first, but Mr. Graves would hush him, leaning close to his ear and brushing his lips against him, leaving Credence too overwhelmed by the sensations to be embarrassed. 

Mr. Graves’s hand was big and rough, but not with scars like his own, it was calloused from working with his hands. Imaginary Mr. Graves was stroking him slowly, starting at the base and bringing his hand upwards, squeezing gently, then starting at the base again, like he was milking him. Credence had been holding his breath to keep quiet, beginning to feel light-headed, but the need for air overcame him and he let out a gasping sob. It sounded like he was crying, and though he doubted anyone could hear him, he hoped that if anyone did, that’s what they would think, and they’d leave him alone.

He imagined Mr. Graves leaning in to caress his ear with his lips, whispering words of encouragement. You’re doing so good, my boy, you’re so beautiful like this . . .

Credence started gasping vehemently, bucking his hips into his hand and bringing his free hand to play with his balls. He gasped aloud as the pressure peaked, letting out a strangled moan as the pleasure flowed through him in waves, his seed spilling out onto the sheets. He continued to rub himself until his orgasm died down, his cock softening in his hand. Breathing heavily, he pushed the oversensitive prick back into his pants, too exhausted to do anything else, and fell into a heavy sleep.

“Fuck,” Graves cursed, kicking a nearby trashcan. How could he do this? All of the excuses for leaving Credence there were shot and he still abandoned him. He apparated back to his apartment and poured himself a stiff drink, worrying about his Credence. He was half expecting to be summoned to him right away, ready to heal him from his mother’s beatings, but he hoped she had gone to bed before he got home. It was well after one in the morning, and he knew they were early risers, always preaching before Graves left for work.

Credence wouldn’t stay with the Barebones forever. Whether in a few days or a few years, Graves would rescue him from that hell and take him home with him. He was already planning on how to approach him again, show him how serious he was, when his pacing lead him to the spare room he had promised to Credence. It wasn’t a particularly large room. The apartment already had a master bedroom and a study he used as an office. The spare room held a few bookshelves and some boxes of junk Graves ‘planned’ to go through. There was a dusty smell in it, and he realized he hadn’t even been in that room for a couple of months. 

With a flick of his wand, he magicked the boxes to his office, deciding to leave the bookshelves in hopes that Credence might enjoy that. He opened the window and circulated the air through so it smelled like the rest of his apartment. Opening the closet, he found more boxes and a few old suits on hangers, and he sent the boxes away with the rest of them, but kept the suits to recycle the fabric. Credence would need new clothes, and he wouldn’t be comfortable with Graves handing him an entire wardrobe, but if he reused these old ones (getting them sized for Credence and updated to the current fashions, of course), he could technically say they were old suits of his that he didn’t wear anymore. 

The stores were closed, now, but he wrote down a list of things he would get tomorrow after meeting with Credence: a bed (big and soft and warm), a comforter set (the fluffiest he could find), pillows (enough that he would kick them off the bed in his sleep), a bedside table, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, maybe a nice reading chair, drapes to match the furniture, and many more books that Credence might find enjoyable to fill up the empty spaces on the bookshelves.

The area was quickly filling up in Graves’s mind, but he couldn’t be bothered. It was another one of those technicalities: the room would be furnished like that before Credence arrived, so it made no sense to tone it down for him, he could have it as it was. 

Being productive always helped Graves feel better, and he was finally able to crawl into his own bed and fall asleep, dreaming about Credence’s reaction to the beautiful room he had created just for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So . . . please comment *cough cough sneeze* I will try not to die . . . ur comments will heal me . . .


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically everything goes down. So bad at drama. This is my attempt to move the plot along and get to my true passion . . . romance
> 
> WARNING: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE! SCENE BETWEEN ~~  
> WARNING: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF CORPSE! SCENE BETWEEN **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You: where have you been?
> 
> Me: first I was researching Langdon Shaw, then I was trying to upset Credence enough to turn into the obscurus without torturing him too much. Very apologies.
> 
> Also I have finally confirmed that the actress that plays Chastity is older than the actor that plays Credence, so Chastity is probably older than Credence even though she looks like she's freakin fourteen okay??? Cant blame me.
> 
> Anyhoo please comment, sorry for late update, will try to update sooner

Mr. Graves paced back and forth across the alley anxiously, though he knew Credence wasn’t technically late . . . yet. He was still anxious to see him. Just before he decided to storm off to the church to search for Credence himself, his hunched frame shuffled into the mouth of the alley. Graves practically ran to him and scooped him up into his arms, wrapping him in a tight hug before he remembered he must have received a fierce punishment from Mary Lou and might be in pain.

 

Credence clutched onto him when he pulled away. “M-Mr. Graves . . . ah, I’m so s-sorry for . . . last night . . .”

 

“No no no, Credence, my sweet boy,” Graves coddled, kissing his face between words. “You’ve nothing to be sorry about, my dear. I didn’t mean to pressure you into anything you weren’t ready for . . . what am I thinking?! You must be in pain, I mean . . . what happened? With Mary Lou?”

 

“It’s just my hands, sir,” Credence insisted, holding up his palms for them to be healed. “Ma was . . . very calm about it. She said she would talk to me about it after dinner.”

 

“Really?” Graves asked, taken by surprise. “You don’t think she was angry?”

 

Credence looked down solemnly. “No . . . not that kind of calm . . . she’s worse when she’s like this . . .”

 

“The calm before the storm, you mean?” Mr. Graves offered.

 

“Oh, yes, exactly . . . I-I’m a little scared . . .” he admitted.

 

Graves kissed him firmly on the lips, holding him close. “Don’t worry, Credence, I’ll take care of you. I have an idea, it might not work, but it will be better than nothing.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“There’s a spell, a protection spell, that will make it so you don’t feel pain for a while. It’s not perfect, and you’ll still have to suffer whatever she does to you, but it won’t . . . _hurt,_ do you understand?”

 

“Uh . . . sure . . . thank you, Mr. Graves. Um . . . I’ve been thinking, Mr. Graves, about what you said, about moving in with you . . .”

 

“Yes, Credence?”

 

“Well . . . maybe – I mean, I know it’s a lot to ask, but I was thinking, if I could get a job, I could pay for everything and you wouldn’t have to worry about money, it’s just the space, and I would do anything to –”

 

“Credence, stop,” Graves interrupted softly. “Just, tell me what it is. The worst thing that can happen is I’ll say ‘no’, and I’ll explain to you why, I promise. Just tell me what you want.”

 

Credence nodded and took a deep breath and launched a long-winded explanation. “It’s my sisters. I can’t leave them. But, if you would let them live with us . . . you said you had an extra room. They could share that and I could sleep in the living room, and they wouldn’t bother you, they’re very well-behaved, and I could pay for their food and clothes, and mine too—”

“Credence.” Mr. Graves sighed tiredly and put a hand on his shoulder. He whipped his wand behind him and transfigured a trash can into a bench. “Sit down.”

 

Credence sat slowly, looking down, clearly already knowing the answer as Graves sat close to him, holding him against his chest and stroking his hair lovingly.

 

“I . . . Credence, I want to help them, I really do. It’s not about money, or about their behavior, or about the space. But, our laws prevent us from revealing our world to no-maj’s. Even if I promised never to use magic around them, the risk would be too great, there’s too much they would be exposed to.”

 

“They . . . they wouldn’t tell anyone,” Credence insisted, his voice trembling as tears threatened to spill over.

 

“I know, Credence, I know. But these laws are very strict. I can’t do anything about it . . . I’m so sorry, Credence.”

 

Graves was stunned when Credence suddenly jerked away from him, standing from the bench. “It’s fine,” he bit out harshly. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m staying with them. And I don’t need your protection spell, either.”

 

He turned on his heel and stormed off out of the alley, leaving Graves in a state of shock. “Credence, wait!” He called out desperately, trying to catch up to him, but he disappeared into the crowd of no-maj’s heading to work.

 

He supposed it was better to let Credence cool off before confronting him again, having no time anyway as he heard the clock in the town square strike seven. He walked to his office and listened to the reports, nothing serious, no updates on the obscurus, nothing to really catch his attention, and so he sat in his office chair and tried to think of how he could help Credence.

 

In the privacy of his office, he could admit to himself that he didn’t care a bit about those little girls. He didn’t know them; he knew their names were Modesty and Chastity, but he wasn’t even sure which one was the older one. The only thing he cared about was Credence, and it made his heart swell that Credence cared more about those little no-maj girls than his own well-being. He was just so perfect that way.

 

Graves twisted his chair back and forth, a childish habit he had never managed to break, and thought about what he could do. There was no chance he could get passed the Statute of Secrecy, it was airtight, there were no loopholes, he himself took part in making sure it stayed that way. There had to be something he could do for them in their world.

 

He was certain, if he exposed Mary Lou’s brutality to the no-maj police, they would take the girls away from her, but they would be stuck in an awful orphanage and be no better off. Unless he could find someone willing to adopt them, someone wealthy and loving, able to give both girls a good home . . . Perhaps, if he found a prominent member of society, he would be more successful in getting them taken from Mary Lou and placed in that person’s home.

 

It would take some work. Interfering with no-maj affairs was not only illegal, but unheard of. He might be able to rope his secretary into it, if she was willing to keep it quiet, but he would get no other help.

 

Onto more pleasant projects, Mr. Graves spent his lunch break shopping for furniture, and purchased everything he would need for Credence’s room. They would be delivered by floo while he was at work, left for him to set up how he pleased.

 

On the other side of town, Credence was shakily holding out flyers to the passersby, weighed down by the guilt of how he treated Mr. Graves. He had been angry, yes, angry about the laws that excluded his sisters from fair treatment, angry at his mother for the way she treated them, angry that he couldn’t just leave his life behind and live with Mr. Graves.

 

He had never been angry at Mr. Graves, however. Not for denying his request. He knew it was far-fetched, anyway. He hadn’t really expected him to accept. But he didn’t blame him, and he didn’t mean to make him feel that he did. He was so consumed with guilt for Mr. Graves and fear of what Ma would do to him, for once, the day passed without his notice, and soon the sky darkened and the streets emptied.

 

Still having a thick stack of flyers to hand out, he considered hiding them or throwing them away before returning, but Ma always knew when he did that. He didn’t know how, she just knew. He would be punished for throwing them away or bringing back extras, so he might as well be honest about it.

 

Modesty met up with him as they approached the church, and she clutched his hand supportively, but he couldn’t bring himself to greet her. He felt as if he was walking to his doom. Modesty kept looking up at him like she wanted to say something, but Credence never looked at her, never wavered his step, until they reached the door.

 

“When you go inside, go up to your room,” he instructed without looking at her.

 

“But—Credence –”

 

Credence squeezed her hand and pulled her through the door, ignoring her protest. Mary Lou was waiting inside, standing stoically in the center of the chapel.

 

“Credence, come here,” she said calmly.

 

Modesty gave Credence one last sympathetic look before running off to her room.

 

Credence stood stalk still for a moment before taking a few shaky steps forward until he was standing in front of his mother, bowing his head.

 ~

“What were you doing last night?” she asked calmly.

 

Credence tensed, unprepared for the question. He had no false excuse this time. Getting lost wouldn’t work, he knew the surrounding areas too well, and he had no excuse for going anywhere unfamiliar.

 

Mary Lou slapped him across the face when he didn’t answer.

 

“I-I . . . I’m sorry—”

 

He was interrupted by another slap. “I don’t want to hear your apologies, and I don’t want to hear any ridiculous excuses. I know you were with a man last night, I could smell it on you this morning.”

 

“No, Ma, I wasn’t—”

 

“Don’t interrupt me! And don’t call me ‘Ma’! Your mother was a witch and you are a whore. Did you meet your _soulmate_? Or did you fall into some stranger’s bed? It doesn’t matter. Your soul is stained with sin. Give me your belt!”

 

Credence was trembling violently now, his fingers clumsily working the buckle to remove his belt, and his eyes welled with tears.

 

“We’ll start with ten lashes. You’ll spend the night praying for forgiveness in the closet, but before then, I am going to burn the message into your skin, so you will not forget.”

 

“N-no, Ma, please!” Credence begged, eyes catching the fire poker embedded in the flames that lit the fireplace. He couldn’t remember her trying to burn his soulmark off him, but he remembered that it hurt unimaginably, and seeing the fire poker brought back the memory of trying to heal from it.

 

Mary Lou grabbed Credence’s upper arm and yanked him to the floor. “Take off your shirt! Do as I say, and I _may_ show you mercy!”

 

With trembling fingers, Credence unbuttoned his vest and shirt and pushed them off his shoulders with his jacket. He tried desperately to stop from crying, that always made it worse, but tears streaked down his face uncontrollably.

 

_CRACK!_

The first blow landed across his shoulder blades without warning, and Credence almost cried out, but was able to stop himself. He braced himself against the floor and tried to hold still as she landed two more strikes across his back.

 

“Ma, please stop!” a tiny but sturdy voice called. Credence looked up in horror at Modesty standing in the stairwell. Chastity was behind her with her hand on Modesty’s shoulder like she was trying to stop her.

 

“Modesty, go back to your room!” Ma instructed.

 

“Leave him alone, he didn’t do anything!” Modesty shouted back, yanking her shoulder away from Chastity.

 

“If you do not leave us,” Ma threatened, “you can join him in punishment.”

 

Modesty looked scared, but she boldly approached them anyway.

 

“Go away, Modesty!” Credence begged. “I’ll be fine!”

 

“Silence, Credence! Modesty needs to learn to obey her elders,” she barked at him. “Hold out your hands.”

 

Modesty held out her hands, which shook with fear, but she never wavered in her heated glare toward her adoptive mother. Mary Lou raised the belt and Modesty flinched, but before she could bring the belt down on her hands, it flew out of her grasp and landed on the floor a few feet away.

~ 

“What . . .?” Mary Lou breathed in confusion, stepping forward to pick it up. It skittered out of her reach once again as she reached for it. “What is this?” she demanded angrily.

 

A red haze began to overtake Credence’s vision, and the outline of his mother, the belt on the floor, and the wooden pews all began to vibrate, like everything was shaking. He was filled with a white-hot rage directed at his mother, a desire to protect his sisters from her so intense it seemed to lash out at her without his consent.

 

It felt a bit like it had when he fell in the lake, the only difference was that, instead of bitter, bone-chilling cold, he felt as though his skin was on fire, and his insides were simmering like the glowing embers beneath the flames.

 

By the time the flames died down and the embers cooled, he was alone in the church, and the sky was darkening with the setting sun. He was in the church, but it was in shambles, the pews splintered and bent, the walls cracked and crumbling, and the ceiling had several gaping holes with dust and debris falling from them.

*

After taking in his surroundings, his eyes fell to the floor in front of him, where he found his mother lying motionless. Feeling panicked that she would wake up and punish him for the destruction of the church, he leaned over slowly to look at her face, which was turned away from him.

 

What he saw made him lurch backward and let out a small shout of horror. Her eyes were open and glassy, her lips were dark blue, and her face was covered in inky black marks.

*

Hyperventilating, he could hardly get his trembling fingers to wrap around the charm Mr. Graves had given him.

 

 

“Deanna, could you come into my office, please?” Mr. Graves addressed his secretary.

 

“Yes, Mr. Graves!” Deanna answered pleasantly, stuffing the notepad covered in doodles into her desk drawer. Deanna was a good secretary; on the short side with hazel eyes and reddish brown hair cut into a stylish bob with finger waves framing her heart-shaped face, which was adorned with dark but modest make-up. She did, however, have a tendency to doodle, space off, and waste valuable working hours dreaming about being a successful artist instead of Mr. Graves’s file-sorter/coffee-delivery-girl.

 

Mr. Graves closed the door behind them, and Deanna was sure this was the end of her job, which was a shame because she was really going places with her art school fund.

 

“I have an important assignment for you,” Mr. Graves started, making Deanna breathe a sigh of relief. “It’s not . . . exactly what you’d call ‘legal’.”

 

Deanna raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Is this . . . some kind of test?”

 

“Uh, no, no, it’s just . . . it’s a personal endeavor, involving no-maj’s. Completely off the record, as a personal favor to me, I just need you to find out some things for me, maybe talk to some people.”

 

“Off the record?” Deanna repeated carefully. “As in . . . I won’t get paid for it?”

 

Mr. Graves gave her a levelling look. “You can do it during your regular work hours. I can give you some more money, if you need, but it couldn’t be enough to draw attention.”

 

“Well, since it’s just a favor . . . could I ask for a favor in return?”

 

“. . . what kind of favor?”

 

“Just write me a letter of recommendation for art school! There’s this little wizarding art school in Maryland and they’d certainly accept me if they got a letter of recommendation from you!”

 

Graves was taken aback by the simple request. “That’s all? I-I mean, of course, of course! No problem!”

 

“Perfect!” Deanna squealed with sincerity. “Just tell me what you want me to do!”

 

“There’s these two little no-maj girls, and I need you to get them adopted. By a no-maj. Of high social standing. Wealthy, preferably, and loving. I need to know that they are being taken care of.”

 

Deanna blinked slowly at him. “. . . that could be difficult. Um, why, exactly?”

 

Graves straightened up. “It’s hardly any of your business.”

 

“What? You’re not even going to tell me why I’m doing this?”

 

“I’m writing that letter for you, aren’t I?”

 

Deanna looked unconvinced.

 

“. . . Alright. Fine. The short version only. I met my soulmate, and he’s a squib, but he lives with two no-maj orphans, and he won’t leave them with their adoptive mother because she’s horrible to them and he protects them. I want to find them a good home so I can give Credence one.”

 

Deanna nodded. “Aw! That’s so sweet! Well, you’re in luck. I think I know just the couple!”

 

“You do?”

 

“Yes! When the obscurus killed senator Shaw, the aurors wanted to interview his brother, Langdon Shaw. I was waiting with Langdon’s wife, and she’s a terrible prattler. She basically told me her whole life’s story, including how she can’t have children, but has always wanted them. They know the Second Salemers, too. She told me they had been going to their sermons.”

 

“That’s perfect!” Graves agreed. “But, if they’re already involved with the Second Salemers, it might not be easy to convince them to take the children away from them. . .  We need to speak to the wife. She’ll be able to convince her husband, I think, all we have to do is convince her.”

 

“I have her address. She was obliviated with the rest of the no-majs who witnessed Senator Shaw’s death, but she might remember me. I can tell her about the girls and their living situation, I’m sure she’ll take pity on them.”

 

“Good. Excellent. Get right on that, and keep in touch,” Mr. Graves instructed, and Deanna left the office with the giddy feeling of going on a top-secret mission.

 

Upon exiting the office, however, she was met with chaos, and Abernathy rushing to speak with Mr. Graves.

 

“There’s been another attack!” he huffed after bursting through the office doorway and pushing a disgruntled Deanna out of the way. “The obscurus! It’s attacked again! They’re calling all hands to the scene, Director Graves!”

 

Graves snapped into action, throwing on his coat and rushing to follow Abernathy out the door. “Your assignment will have to wait, Deanna!”

 

He never heard where the obscurus attacked, however, or any other details about the incident, because he was then whisked away via the summoning charm once again. He was apparated to the church, or what was left of it. The entire building looked like it had been through a violent earthquake. There, in the center of the chapel, lay Mary Lou’s lifeless body, and a little way behind her, Credence’s trembling form.

 

Graves rushed to Credence, stepping gracelessly over Mary Lou’s corpse, and kneeling down to hold him.

 

“Help me, please help me,” Credence begged pathetically, still clutching the charm.  


“Credence, it’s alright, I’m here!”

 

“Please, help me!”

 

“I’m here, Credence! I’ve got you! Listen to me, the obscurus, it was here! Did you see it?”

 

Credence sobbed and fell into him heavily. Before Graves could question him further, he could hear voices shouting from outside; his aurors had arrived. Fearing they might attack his Credence, and even though he knew it was a serious breach of conduct, he apparated them back to his apartment.

 

“Credence, look at me. Do you hear me?” he asked, laying Credence carefully down on the couch. Credence nodded through his tears. “I need you to stay here for a moment, please. I’ll be back as soon as I can, just stay here and calm down.”

 

“No, please don’t leave me!” Credence panicked, grabbing Graves’s coat to keep him from leaving.

 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, ten minutes at the very most, I promise.”

 

“No, no, I need you!”

 

Graves sighed, and got on his knees next to the couch. “Credence, I need you to do me a favor, an extremely difficult favor but an even more extremely important one. Will you do this thing for me?”

 

“Wh-what is it?” Credence asked quietly.

 

“Close your eyes, and cover your ears, and count to one hundred, slowly. Don’t open your eyes until you get to one hundred, alright?”

 

Credence’s eyes filled with tears once again. “I-I can’t . . . you’re leaving, I know you are! I don’t want you to go!”

 

“I can’t explain how important this is right now, but I need your help. Don’t you want to help me?”

 

Credence nodded sadly and closed his eyes.

 

“Please count slowly. It won’t work if you count too fast.” Graves kissed Credence’s forehead and placed his hands over his ears, waiting until he began counting before disapparating.

 

Credence counted while Graves returned to the church, barking orders at his subordinates. They were good aurors, they knew what to do in this situation, he was really only there for formalities sake. The only explanation he offered as to his need for immediate departure was that he was following up on a lead that was time-sensitive. Apparently, it worked for them, and he returned to his apartment when Credence was in the late eighties.

 

Graves slowly approached the couch and knelt down, silently, so Credence was unaware of his presence, and watched him, listened to his voice as he counted. He had calmed some, counting softly and smoothly, and for a moment, Percival just took him in.

 

“Ninety-eight . . . ninety-nine . . . one-hundred.”

 

Credence was still for a moment, afraid to open his eyes and find himself all alone. He had managed to trick himself into believing he was still there, watching him, and he was afraid to learn that he was by himself, left alone to deal with his inner demons.

 

He took a deep breath before looking, and pulled his hands away from his eyes slowly.

 

Seeing Mr. Graves kneeling in front of him, watching him silently, was possibly the greatest sight he had ever seen.

 

“I told you I’d be here, didn’t I?” Mr. Graves said quietly. Credence swallowed and leaned forward to wrap his arms around him and bury his face in his neck before more tears could come. “We have to talk, Credence. Do you understand what has happened?”

 

“M-m-my mother . . . she’s dead!” Credence sobbed in response.

 

“Do you remember what happened?”

 

“No . . . Ma was punishing me and Modesty came in . . . I was scared, Mr. Graves . . .”

 

“That’s alright, Credence, that’s fine. Anyone would be. Your sister is in danger right now, Credence. We have to find her. Do you know where she might be?”

 

“. . . Maybe . . . we adopted her from a large family, she still talks about them. I know where they used to live. She likes to walk passed the house sometimes.”

 

“Is that somewhere she goes when she’s upset?”

 

Credence nodded.

 

“That’s a good place to start, then. You can wait here, if you want to, but I think she might be a little afraid right now, and you may be able to calm her, if you’d like to go with me?”

 

“Yes, I-I want to go . . . I don’t want to be left alone.”

 

Credence gave him the street names that were near it, and they apparated to an alley as close as they could get to it, walking the rest of the way. Credence was clearly upset about his mother’s death (Graves couldn’t say the same for himself), and Graves felt terrible that he couldn’t allow him the appropriate amount of time to process what had happened, but finding the obscurial was a higher priority. _Besides,_ Graves reasoned with himself, _if anything happened to Modesty, Credence would be devastated._

 

The front door was open, and the two of them crept inside, listening for signs of life. A little sound from upstairs caught the attention of the trained auror, and he gestured for Credence to follow him up the stairs. Before he reached the top, however, he stopped and turned around to speak to him.

 

“Credence . . . remember when I told you that an obscurus is very dangerous?”

 

“Yes,” Credence answered.

 

“I want you to promise me something. If Modesty . . . lashes out, I want you to run. Get out of here, and run as far away as you can as fast as you can. I’ll be able to protect myself with my magic, but I don’t want anything to happen to you. Will you promise me that?”

 

“I promise.”

 

Graves leaned in and pressed a firm, loving kiss to Credence’s lips before turning and entering a small bedroom. He was surprised to see not only Modesty, but Chastity as well, both huddling together in a closet to the side of the room. Graves approached them cautiously, kneeling to their level and speaking softly.

 

“Modesty? Chastity? Are you alright?”

 

The girls gave him wide-eyed stares, holding each other closer in fear.

 

“It’s alright, I won’t hurt you. I’m here with your brother—”

 

The mention of Credence made the girls flinch back in terror.

 

“No, not him!” Chastity cried. “He-he killed our mother!”

 

“ . . . what do you mean?”

 

“It was an accident,” Modesty said shakily, but Chastity cut her off.

 

“It was horrible! He’s a witch, he used his magic to attack her! He’s a monster!”

 

A small noise made Graves turn around. Across the room in the doorway, where the girls couldn’t see them, Credence was gaping at him in shock. Graves slowly reached out to Credence, hoping to comfort him in some way, but his frame was already beginning to expand in tendrils of black smoke. “Credence, it’s alright.”

 

“No . . . no! I-I killed her! I killed that man! I _am_ a monster!”

 

The last words echoed through the room as his entire form dissolved and burst out of the house violently, knocking Graves on his back and making the girls scream. Graves took a second to collect himself.

 

“Stay here!” he barked at the girls, not entirely sure that that was the right thing to do. He had no time for them, not now, not when his beloved Credence needed him so desperately. He left the girls there and ran out into the street, following the clear path of destruction under ground to a subway station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? Not another cliffy!!!
> 
> Sorry bois and gurls I just ran out of steam on this one. I wanted to keep it as close to canon as possible but I hate retelling what happened in the movie and as tempting as it is, I cannot bring myself to just be like OK SO THE THING IN THE MOVIE HAPPENED AND THEN
> 
> please please comment. If I get 107 comments before I update the next chapter I will give my cinnamon roll a cinnamon roll from Kowalski's bakery.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valentine Update!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3<3<3<3<3<3<3
> 
> Mostly Graves feeding Credence a cinnamon roll in bed
> 
> Also Deanna makes her move

Being an obscurus was difficult to explain. Credence’s perception of the world was warped, in a way, but even that was difficult to understand because he was not paying attention to the world around him. He was entirely consumed with his internal struggles; his fear, anger, sadness, and guilt. He could vaguely recall a few instances of the outside world making its presence known to him.

 

Mostly it was violent, frightening flashes of light, and loud cracks in the air. He remembered people talking to him, calming him. He recognized the woman who had been with Mr. Graves when he first met him, and she was with another man who spoke kindly to him and wanted to help him.

 

There were more people, but they weren’t kind. Concentrating hard on the recent memories, Credence was sure the painful light had come from them. But Mr. Graves, Miss Goldstein, and the kind man with the accent had protected him.

 

Now, he was in some sort of hospital. The room was small and white, but the ceiling was high, as well as the single window, so Credence would have to stand on the little bed to look out of it. He could not move from the bed, however. His body was sluggish and exhausted, so he laid there still and tried to remember how he got there.

 

The memories began to upset him, and his extremities shook. The plain white room was uninviting, and he wished he wasn’t alone, he wished Mr. Graves was there with him to explain what was going on and comfort him.

 

Just as tears began to stream out of his eyes, the door opened and four people walked in. Credence was relieved that two of them were Miss Goldstein and the red-haired man that had helped him before. Another man that he didn’t recognize came in and passed them, coming to a small table next to the bed and working with a clipboard and a bottle with some concoction in it. He assumed this was a doctor.

 

Last, however, entered a woman that he did not know, but had the strong impression that he had seen her before, and he was unnerved by her.

 

“Mr. Barebone, I am President Picquery,” she said seriously. “Do you know where you are?”

 

“Uh . . . hospital,” Credence groaned, still sluggish.

 

“Do you remember what happened?”

 

“Mm . . . I-I don’t know . . . there was a lot of people, they had lightening. . .” A blush rose to his cheeks. He felt embarrassed to be unable to explain what he remembered.

 

“You attacked the city, Mr. Barebone, and several people. Two no-majs were killed.”

 

“Madam Pres—” Tina interjected, receiving a withering scowl from her.

 

“My aurors were able to contain you last night, and you are to be detained in this room until the Obscurus parasite is removed.”

 

There was a moment of silence as the words sunk in.

 

“Am I . . . am I going to jail?” Credence asked in a shaky voice.

 

“That is yet to be determined,” Picquery stated, making Tina give her an incredulous look.

 

The president made some falsely polite exiting remark and left the room, leaving Tina and the other two men with Credence, who had begun to cry.

 

Tina came to sit next to him, cradling his head in her hands comfortingly. “Oh, sweetie, don’t worry about any of that, it wasn’t your fault at all!”

 

Credence didn’t want to be selfish or ungrateful, but his thoughts immediately went to Mr. Graves. Why wasn’t he here? Was he alright? Was he in trouble? Was he disgusted by what he had done, wanting nothing more to do with him?

 

“Where is he?” he asked Tina. “Where’s Mr. Graves?”

 

“He’s just finishing up some reports, and then he’s coming to see you. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

 

Credence relaxed exponentially at the news. “I-is he mad at me?”

 

“No, of course not! I told you, it wasn’t your fault!”

 

She continued stroking his face, trying to comfort him, but Credence let his fear and confusion get the better of him, and for once couldn’t find the strength to bottle it all up.

 

“I can’t move!” he whined childishly, tears spilling over his face. “I’m so tired! I don’t want to stay here!”

 

“Don’t be afraid,” the red-headed man said, speaking for the first time. “They’re keeping you sedated to keep you calm, it’s alright. Do you remember me? I’m Newt, I was in the subway station.”

 

“I remember you,” Credence affirmed.

 

“I’m going to help you, Credence, but I need you to cooperate with me, alright? You’ll have to stay here until your body is strong enough for the procedure.”  


“Procedure?”

 

“We’re going to remove the obscurus, Credence.”

 

“Will it hurt?”

 

Newt looked at him sympathetically. “I don’t think so, Credence.”

 

A light knock at the door startled him. An unfamiliar blonde woman entered, holding a small paper bag and smiling kindly at him. Credence, who was usually nervous about meeting new people, felt calm with her presence, and thought she must be a very good person to give him that impression so early on.

 

“Hi, Credence!” she said sweetly. “I’m Queenie Goldstein, Tina’s sister. I heard they were going to try feeding you, so I brought you a treat!”

 

She held up the paper bag, and he could smell sugar and cinnamon, and the scent of baked bread. It smelled wonderful, but Credence had never been allowed to indulge in such treats before, and he worried he would seem greedy to accept such a rare treat.

 

“Oh, don’t worry about that, honey, it’s for you!” Queenie assured him, coming to stand next to his bed. “Let’s sit you up.”

 

As Credence was wondering if he had said that out loud, the doctor and Queenie took hold of his arms to help him sit up, but a voice from the doorway interrupted them.

 

“I’ll get him,” Mr. Graves said, entering the room and taking the doctor’s place next to Credence. He looked tired, worn out, but so relieved to be with Credence again. Credence couldn’t think of anything to say, to express his gratitude for Graves’s kindness and patience, for coming to see him when he so clearly needed rest. All he could do was strain his drug-weakened muscles to reach for him, tears from his overwhelming affection welling up in his eyes.

 

Graves snaked his arm under Credence’s shoulders and pulled him up to a sitting position, holding him against his chest while he cried into his shoulder and shushing him gently.

 

“He’s in good hands, now,” Queenie said to the others in the room. “We’d better get back to work.”

 

She handed Graves the paper sack and told him to feed it to Credence slowly, and the doctor left them with a cup of water he was instructed to finish with the pastry.

 

Once alone, Graves pulled out a warm cinnamon roll from the paper bag, delicately rolled and glazed perfectly, like something you see in a shop window. He broke off a bite-sized piece and pressed it to Credence’s lips, letting him take the treat into his mouth.

 

“’S good,” Credence muttered as he chewed.

 

“Glad you like it. I don’t much care for sweets myself, but I do prefer the cinnamon ones. Cinnamon or lemon.”

 

“Lemon?” Credence said with interest. “Isn’t lemon sour?”

 

Graves broke off another bite of the roll for him. “Just lemon is, but when it’s mixed with sugar or honey – oh, I do love honey lemon tea. My mother used to make it for me when I had a sore throat, and she always said ‘magic isn’t always the answer’.”

 

“I like hearing about you,” Credence said, too tired to care that his mouth was full. “I like learning about you.”

 

“I want to learn more about you as well, Credence.”

 

“You already know everything about me. I hand out pamphlets and get beaten. Sometimes I make soup. That’s all.”

 

“That’s not true, Credence. There’s so much more to you. You’re kind, gentle, beautiful, and self-sacrificing. You’ve been through hell and come out an angel.”

 

Credence blushed and smiled against Graves’s shoulder. “That’s my personality. I mean other things. I don’t have nice childhood memories, or favorite sweets, or things I like to do.”

 

“That’s just because you haven’t tried very many things. We’ll have to try lots of things and discover what you like together.”

 

Credence smiled wistfully, relaxing into Mr. Graves’s arms and letting himself be fed the delicious treat. He ignored the looming fears about the future, removing the obscurus and facing his crimes, and just let himself be happy for once. It was the happiest he had ever been.

 

Meanwhile

 

Deanna had been doing a bit of detective work. She had her boyfriend track down Mrs. Shaw and let her know when he had eyes on her. He reported that she had met with a friend for brunch and was now doing some shopping. Once she had found out about Mrs. Barebone’s convenient demise, she had determined this was a perfect time to broach the subject to Mrs. Shaw.

 

“Excuse me, you’re Langdon Shaw’s wife, correct?” Deanna started politely as she approached her, looking through a shop window at some expensive-looking shoes.

 

“Oh, yes, of course! We’ve . . . met, haven’t we? I’m so sorry, you seem so familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it!”

 

“We spoke a few days ago, when your brother-in-law . . .” Deanna trailed off.

 

“Oh, I remember now, so sorry. Very sad business, my husband has been just distraught, and myself as well, though of course we all grieve differently, as they say, and while my husband wallows away drinking and staring off into space, I just can’t sit still!”

 

“I understand,” Deanna said sincerely. “Listen, would you mind if I spoke with you for a moment?”

 

“Of course, of course, dear!”

 

Deanna lead her to a bench nearby and sat down next to her. “You have been going to the Second Salemer sermons, right?”

 

Mrs. Shaw blushed and glared suspiciously at Deanna. “We’ve . . . been to a few, I suppose, why do you ask?”

 

“Well, you see, there’s been an accident, I’m afraid. Mrs. Barebone has . . . passed away.”

 

“Oh, I . . . I’m sorry to hear that.”

 

Deanna nodded empathetically. “Yes, well, the problem is that she left behind her three adopted children. The boy is old enough to go out on his own, but the girls . . . they need someone to take care of them, and their brother couldn’t possibly afford it. I remember you saying how much you wanted kids, I thought maybe, if you were interested . . .” she trailed off expectantly.

 

Mrs. Shaw smiled brightly. “Oh, I’d . . . love to take them in! Absolutely! They’re such sweet girls, they’d be a delight!”

 

Deanna let a crooked smile spread across her face, and before anything else was said, cast a quick memory charm on Mrs. Shaw, smudging the memory of meeting with Deanna and leaving the determination to take in the Barebone girls. She would have to sneak around unnoticed for a bit, making sure the girls weren’t stuck in some orphanage or adopted by someone less than savory.

 

Until then, she skipped off to tell Mr. Graves the good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE COMMENT LIKE THAT IS ALL I LIVE FOR
> 
> THAT AND BOOKS
> 
> CHU JU'S HOUSE JUST CAME IN THE MAIL, BEEN READING IT ALL NIGHT


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Graves is emotionally compromised.
> 
> Newt does a surgery. 
> 
> Credence is sleepy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short chapter. It's like 2:09 a.m. so probably tomorrow I'll look at it and be like "wtf this is not ready for public eyes what was I thinking" but it's too late for braining.

“You can’t be serious!” Graves snapped harshly.

 

“Listen to yourself, Graves,” Picquery said sternly. “You are too emotionally involved in this case. You know we never allow soulmates to represent each other in court. You can testify in his defense, that is all I will allow.”

 

She began arranging files on her desk, signaling in her self-righteous way that the conversation was over. Graves leaned over her desk to glare at her.

 

“You and I both know the only reason you’re pressing criminal charges is because you want to pin the blame on him so you don’t have to deal with the consequences!”

 

“Enough, Graves! If you cannot contain yourself, you will not be allowed to accompany Mr. Barebone in court at all. I’ve had enough of your insubordination!”

 

Graves had more to say, much more, but the threat of having to leave Credence to face his prosecutors alone was enough to shut him up. For now, at least. Storming out of the office, he made his way through the halls of MACUSA to the holding cell where Newt was examining Credence.

 

Tina was pacing across the small room, nervously biting her nails, but Newt was talking calmly and smiling at Credence, bedside manner he had practiced with his animals. Graves was grateful for that; Credence responded well to Newt, smiling softly and answering his questions easily. They needed to keep him calm; he had a hard time concentrating under the effects of the sedative, so the doctor had lowered the dose. He was still drowsy, but much more alert.

 

As he entered, Tina approached him and quietly asked about the meeting. Credence looked up at them with concern, but Newt asked him another question to distract him.

 

Graves sighed. “She won’t let me defend him. She says I can testify, but we have to find someone else to represent him.”

 

Tina sighed in annoyance. “Why? Why do they see him as a criminal? None of this is his fault, he didn’t _intend_ for any of this to happen!”

 

“She’s just doing it for show,” Graves growled. “The British took her perpetrator, so she needs someone else to blame to take the focus away from herself.”

 

Newt stood and came over to them then. “Mr. Graves, might I have a private word with you?”

 

Tina gave him a confused look, but he didn’t look at her. Graves nodded and stepped out into the hall.

 

“Please keep Credence company, will you?” Newt said to Tina. “He’s a little nervous about all of this.”

 

Tina nodded and went to take Newt’s seat by Credence’s bed.

 

“What’s wrong with Mr. Graves?” Credence asked quietly.

 

“He’s alright, it’s just that he’s not allowed to be your lawyer. We have to find someone else to be your lawyer. But he’ll still be with you every step of the way.”

 

Outside in the hall, Newt was looking around anxiously.

 

“What is it, Mr. Scamander?” Graves said, chest tightening in fear that it may be bad news.

 

“Well, you see, I am confident that I will be able to remove the obscurus, it’s just . . . last time, the girl had died because the strain was too much for her. Credence is much older and stronger, but so is his obscurus.”

 

“What are you saying? Will he be alright?”

 

“He will,” Newt said firmly, confidently. “There is a way we can help him. If I take some of the strain, and if you help me, distributed between us it will be no problem. I could do it myself, even, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

 

“Of course I’ll help,” Graves told him. “I’ll do anything for him.”

 

“That’s good, because it’s the method that I’m concerned about. It’s not exactly legal . . .”

 

“What is it?”

 

“. . . Blood magic.”

 

Graves straightened. Blood magic was the kind of ritualistic dark magic that Mary Lou Barebone had been so afraid of, and it was highly illegal. It was extremely powerful; you could do virtually anything with it, but at the cost of your own well-being. It drained your life, often times causing the death of the wielder.

 

“There’s no other way?”

 

“Not without great risk to Credence’s life. I know this _will_ work, the three of us are very powerful wizards. At most, we’ll be lethargic for a few weeks. We’ll need healers standing by to assist us when we complete the removal. And . . . I don’t want to ask too much, but you see, it can be difficult to concentrate under such stress, so I would need you to take the brunt of it while I complete the spellwork.”

 

“I understand. I’ll see if I can get legal permits for this. It shouldn’t be too difficult, no one wants the obscurus loose. Have Tina help you make the other arrangements. Whatever you need, MACUSA will provide. Also, if at all possible, I think it will really help our case if we remove it before the trial.”

 

Newt nodded and left to make the arrangements. Graves hailed Deanna and had her update him on the adoption of Credence’s sisters. It had all gone smoothly; the girls had been obliviated and believed Credence had gotten a job and a small apartment while they were put in the Shaw’s care. Credence had been delighted, and had written a letter to his sisters saying that he was happy and healthy, and asked them to keep in touch to make sure they were, as well.

 

Mr. Graves then had Deanna work on getting the permits for using blood magic, as well as look into lawyers that would help defend Credence.

 

He then went back into Credence’s hospital room and sat next to him. He had fallen asleep, but Graves knew he would be comforted by his presence nonetheless.

 

 

Newt was surprisingly swift in his preparations. Only two days later, they were ready to make the extraction. Graves had also gotten permits to use blood magic, after a tense meeting with the president. She was not a bad person, by any means, and wasn’t trying to stop them from removing the obscurus in the interest of the criminal charges against him; she was merely concerned with the safety of her Director of Magical Security, and so she was reluctant to allow it. She agreed only if they completed the procedure under MACUSA supervision.

 

Credence was taken off the sedatives and brought to a large outside arena where they had set up magical wards to keep the obscurus from escaping or damaging the property. Credence was laid on a stretcher in the center, sunk low in front of two chairs for Newt and Percival, placed there so they wouldn’t have to strain themselves standing. Outside some of the protective layers stood Tina Goldstein and three other aurors, four healers, and President Picquery with two of her council members. There were also two wizards there to record the event for historical and scientific purposes.

 

“We’re going to do this slowly and carefully, alright?” Newt told Credence calmingly. “You just try to keep calm; it shouldn’t hurt, but it will be frightening. Credence, once we begin, there will be no stopping. Are you ready for this?”

 

Credence nodded, trying to relax like Newt had told him. “I’m ready.”

 

Newt gave Graves a curt nod, signaling that he was about to start. He didn’t stall, placing one hand on Credence’s abdomen and pointing his wand at his temple with the other. Graves placed his wand hand on Newt’s shoulder, allowing him to draw strength from him.

 

“ _Daemoniorum Exsilium_ ,” Newt recited in a deep, serious tone.

 

Credence whimpered as he felt the obscurus tug at his being, being drawn up through his body to the tip of Newt’s wand. Newt continued to recite the incantation, and the obscurus tugged harder.

 

Newt and Graves tensed, beginning to feel the strain, and the obscurus made itself known, seeping out of Credence’s eyes and mouth in wispy black smoke, as well as being drawn into Newt’s wand. Newt drew back whenever Credence started to lose his corporal form, easing on the pressure until he regained it, so as not to leave him damaged when the obscurus was removed.

 

All of a sudden, Credence seized and screamed in terror. Graves grunted and doubled over in his chair, almost losing his grip on Newt’s shoulder, as he felt like his entire body was being electrocuted. Newt’s incantation faltered a bit, but he held strong, even as Credence began twitching and jerking around on the table. The obscurus began roaring like a great wind, and Newt’s voice grew with it.

 

“Credence, you must calm yourself!” he called out over the noise.

 

Credence couldn’t hear him, however. The parasite was drawing strength by forcing Credence to recall his worst memories. He remembered the orphanage, being struck on the back of his hands with a ruler for stealing food from the other children, even though he insisted he did not know how he had gotten it. He remembered his Ma picking him up and taking him to the church, Chastity was already there and was cruel to him, calling him stupid for not already knowing the rules and tattling to Ma whenever he did anything unnatural. He remembered taking in Modesty, trying to teach her the rules so she would not be punished, and taking the blame himself for so many of her mistakes.

 

He remembered all of the pain he had been through, forgetting the little happiness. He saw Mr. Graves, not recognizing him as his soulmate, using him and then throwing him away.

 

He remembered killing his Ma, too, and the senator. He hadn’t been able to recall it before, but now he saw it in gruesome detail, seeing and feeling every angle in his obscurus form.

 

“It’s alright, Credence!” a voice called, and he focused on it, remembering the red-headed wizard with kind eyes and an interesting accent, caring about him so dearly even though he hardly knew him.

 

“That’s good, Credence, you’re doing so well!” Another voice this time, this one resonating through him firmly. It was Mr. Graves, and he put his hand on Credence’s thigh.

 

 _Yes,_ Credence thought, _I’ll do good for Mr. Graves!_

 

He remembered to keep himself calm, evening his breathing, and relaxing his muscles. The obscurus was coming through his temple and into Newt’s wand smoothly now, and his body remained whole. It took twenty-three minutes, according to the scientists when asked later, for the entirety of the obscurus to leave Credence’s body. Newt could only keep it in his wand for a few seconds, so he quickly placed it in a magical containment bubble, the way he had with the Sudanese girl, and collapsed onto his chair.

 

Immediately, the wards where dropped and the healers rushed toward them, beginning their examinations and transporting them to the hospital. Graves tried to address Credence, but he was too weak to speak up. He soon fell asleep under the effects of the healer’s potions.

 

When he woke, he was in a hospital room with several beds. Next to him, Credence was still sleeping, and in a bed across from them, Newt was speaking with some of the healers. Graves tried to sit up, fighting off the grogginess desperately, and drew the attention of the healers. One of them came over to him.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Graves. Are you alright?”

 

Graves frowned and waved the question off with a sleepy hand. “Cr-Credence?” he gasped.

 

“He’s doing fine, just resting. He’ll be up and about in a day or two.”

 

“Th-the operation . . . was it . . .”

 

The healer smiled. “It was successful, yes. We’ve examined him, and just to be safe, Mr. Scamander is going to examine him again when he regains his strength.”

 

“How long have we been asleep?” he got out in one breath.

 

“About a day and a half, for you. Credence woke at about three in the morning, for a little while, and Mr. Scamander woke a couple of hours ago. Try to get some more sleep, everything is being taken care of.”

 

As the healer walked away, Graves made eye-contact with Newt, who offered him a small smile. Graves turned his head to look at Credence, curled up on his side, sleeping peacefully. He sighed softly in his sleep, a tiny smile twitched into place briefly.

 

 _I hope he’s dreaming about me,_ Graves thought to himself absurdly before falling into his own sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! I know it's short but heeeeeeyyyyyy
> 
> Graves takes Credence home next chapter so . . . that's gonna be interesting *eyebrow wiggle*


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence has a bath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY did this take so long?
> 
> Because it's a filler chapter, and I hate writing them. Please R&R anyway

They had been in the hospital for closing on two weeks. Tina had been in contact with a lawyer for Credence and was preparing his defense with him, calling on Graves to keep him updated and have his limited input. Credence and Newt had recovered much sooner than Graves, having taken less of the strain as planned, and Graves had told Credence he could go to his home, where his room was ready for him, or stay with Tina and Queenie, who had invited him to their home, but Credence preferred to stay in the hospital.

 

He happily sat by Percival’s bedside, so adorable in his attentiveness that the healers often allowed him to do small things for him, like feed him and shave him. He also read to him frequently. Tina had brought some books for them, and Credence would read next to Percival’s bed while he tried to sleep, but Percival had a hard time calming his mind enough to sleep, so he asked one day, casually, that Credence read his book aloud to him. Falling asleep to Credence’s soothing voice was much easier, and he slept much more soundly. If Credence ever stopped for a moment, to take a drink of water or check Percival’s temperature, he would wake up, much to Credence’s amusement.

 

 _He seems so happy_ , thought Percival. Credence was pleasant and friendly with the healers and lawyer. He still hunched his shoulders and leaned toward Percival shyly, but offered small smiles and offers to help with anything they were doing. Percival was proud of his boy, coming out of his shell like this, and couldn’t wait to take him home.

 

“There is nothing wrong with me,” he insisted to the healer as he was examined for the hundredth time. “I feel better than I felt _before_ the ordeal, honestly. I just need to get out of bed, work off some of this excess energy, get some things _done_ , and I’ll be back to normal.”

 

“We’re just trying to be safe,” the healer sighed, rolling her eyes with a small smile. “Don’t want you passing out on your doorstep, do we?”

 

“If I do, Credence is perfectly capable of taking care of me,” he replied, putting a hand proudly on Credence’s shoulder and giving him an affectionate smile.

 

The healer looked between them and nodded. “Alright. I’ll get your release papers.” She then turned quite obviously to address Credence alone, stepping close to him and handing him a potion bottle. “You give him a swallow of this if he starts to feel dizzy or faint, and have him drink lots of water, alright? Put him to bed at about nine or nine-thirty.”

 

Credence nodded and giggled, and Percival frowned good-naturedly at the exchange. They packed up their things while the paperwork went through, and exited via floo to Graves’s apartment. Credence, naturally, was quite startled by the mode of transportation, but before Percival had the mind to apologize for not warning him about it, Credence gave out a delighted chuckle.

 

“You have such interesting ways to travel, Mr. Graves!” he said cheerfully.

 

Graves smiled at him, stepping into his living room behind Credence and wrapping his arms around him. “You’ve been so happy lately,” he remarked. “I love to see you like this.”

 

Credence nodded, putting his hands on the arms around him. “I feel . . . like something that has been pressing on me has been lifted. It’s not just that. You know, my whole life, everything . . . everything stuck with me. Every time something bad happened to me, it would build upon everything that had already happened, but it’s gone now. I still remember everything; being angry and sad and just . . . miserable. But it’s like I’m starting over now.”

 

Percival gave him a small squeeze. “We won’t let it build up like that again, will we?”

 

Credence squeezed his arm gently, looking down like he wasn’t so sure, but he would try.

 

“Let me show you your room,” Graves said, pulling away only enough to guide Credence down the hall to the spare room. He shook his head gently; it wasn’t a spare room any more, it wasn’t a hardly useful storage space. It was Credence’s room, his very own space where he could keep his personal possessions and have his privacy. He considered putting a lock on the door for Credence, giving him a greater sense of privacy, but he was still concerned about his mental state, and worried it wouldn’t be safe. He didn’t need one, anyway; Percival would never invade Credence’s privacy if he didn’t want him to.

 

The room looked a lot homier with all of the furniture, but Percival still felt unnerved by the lack of personal items. It didn’t look lived in at all. He hoped Credence would change that soon. Credence, on the other hand, was delighted. He had never seen such a fancy bedroom, not in person at least. He had expected something like the hospital room, still much larger and nicer than his room at the church, but this room was larger still, full of furniture and colorful decorations. It was designed to be welcoming, rather than just functional. The bed especially enticed him. It looked impossibly soft, and was clearly big enough for two people. With a slight blush, he wondered why Graves thought he would need a bed fit for two, until he remembered he had been using it as a guest room. He secretly hoped the bed hadn’t been previously used for lascivious activities.

 

“It’s . . . beautiful,” Credence admitted. “I’m afraid to touch anything.”

 

“Don’t be silly, Credence, everything in this room belongs to you. It’s yours to do with as you please.”

 

“Mine? I couldn’t take all of this from you!”

 

“Why not? It’s normal furniture you’d find in a bedroom. You might not think so, given your upbringing, but this room is actually quite modest. Besides, I have no use for it. No one has even used it before, I’ve never had guests overnight. I was using it to store some of my old things, but I’ve moved those to my office. Think of it as a homecoming gift. Then, if you’d like, we can see about getting you a job. I am perfectly capable of supporting you until then.”

 

Credence suppressed a greedy smile as he stroked the soft comforter on his bed longingly. “If you say so, I suppose it wouldn’t be too bad . . . it’s not as though I have anything of my own to bring, and if you already had this stuff . . .”

 

Graves felt a stab of guilt, and hoped Credence wouldn’t be too upset when he inevitably revealed that he had, in fact, purchased everything for Credence.

 

Credence collapsed on the bed, burying his face in the pillows, and let out a satisfied moan that went straight to Percival’s nether regions. _Now is not the time,_ he scolded his libido.

 

“My room is across the hall, next to the bathroom. The room next to yours is my office. You know where the living room is, the kitchen and dining room are just adjacent . . .”

 

“I . . . I’d like to take a bath, if I may,” Credence admitted shyly. “The doc—I mean, the healers kept me clean, but . . .”

 

“I understand. Come along, I think you’ll be pleased. I don’t indulge myself often, I prefer to shower; it’s quicker, but sometimes, after working overtime for a few days, I like to soak in a hot bath for an hour or so, have a glass of wine . . .” Thoughts of joining Credence in the bath made Percival clear his throat awkwardly. As he revealed the expansive tub to Credence, though, he realized this also was big enough for two, and had similar fantasies.

 

Percival filled the tub with magic and added a heating charm, then showed him an array of potions he could add to it, some simply to make scented or colorful bubbles, but others to serve various purposes, like soothing sore muscles, healing illnesses, or even giving you pleasant dreams that night. He said there were many more potions for baths, enough that it would take years if they tried a new potion every day. Credence asked about mixing the potions, and Percival showed him a symbol on the labels that told whether it was safe to mix or should be used alone.

 

Credence picked out a potion that would make blueberry bubbles, and Percival recommended one that would ease the stiffness in his joints, pointing out is hunched shoulders. Credence entertained the idea of asking him to help him in the bath, but didn’t want to expose Percival to his skinny, scarred body.

 

“Do you want something to read?” Graves asked. “I can charm a book so that it won’t get wet.”

 

Credence blushed and looked away to hide his smile. “You’re spoiling me, Mr. Graves!”

 

“I like spoiling you, baby doll,” he replied, rubbing Credence’s shoulder.

 

“Baby doll? You’ve called me that before . . .” Credence observed.

 

This time, it was Percival who blushed. “Oh, yes, well . . . when I first saw you, you were so . . . _perfect_ . . . your dark hair, sparkling eyes, and plush, pink lips reminded me of those porcelain dolls . . .” He trailed off, chuckling lightly in embarrassment.

 

“A p-porcelain doll? They’re so pretty . . . I couldn’t possibly compare,” Credence gasped, remembering a time when he and Modesty had walked passed a shop window with six or seven dolls on display. They were so beautiful, Modesty cried for wanting them, and Credence had to scold her for her greed, though he knew that he would have done the same were he not more in control of himself.

 

“It’s true, Credence. I didn’t even know you were my soulmate then. I can’t wait for your hair to grow out.” _I hope it’s curly,_ he thought to himself, not telling this to Credence so he wouldn’t feel bad if it grew straight. _He will be gorgeous no matter what, but he really would look like a doll with those shiny black curls framing his face._

 

“M-Mr. Graves?” Credence asked shyly, and Percival realized he had been staring at him. “I get embarrassed when you look at me like that . . .”

 

“May I kiss you, Credence?” Percival blurted out gracelessly.

 

Credence’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth in surprise, but made no answer other than a few stutters. He had meant to say something to acquiesce, but didn’t know how to respond, instead leaning forward slightly in hopes that Percival could take the hint.

 

He did.

 

Percival leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Credence’s lips, lingering for a moment before dipping in again, and again. Credence let Percival massage his lips with his own, not knowing how to reciprocate, and afraid he would embarrass himself if he tried. He was content to let Percival take charge, finding that kissing was much nicer than he had expected. Little shocks of pleasure reverberated through his lips, and he began pressing forward, opening his mouth a little more.

 

When Percival ran his tongue along Credence’s bottom lip, the pleasure shot straight to his cock, making it twitch to life. Credence gasped and pulled away. “The-the water will get cold,” he said as an excuse.

 

“It’s charmed, Credence. It’ll stay hot for days.” Letting his libido get the better of him, he continued. “I could join you, if you’d like.”

 

He regretted it as soon as he’d said it, expecting to be immediately shot down like he had before, but Credence rested his forehead against Percival’s. “I . . . I can’t. I don’t want you to s-see me.”

 

Percival groaned in disappointment. “Alright, I understand. You’re just . . . so hard to resist. Ugh, sorry, I’ll just . . . I’ll be in the living room when you’re done, alright? You can put on my robe when you get out, it’s there on the door. I’ll get some sleep clothes for you to borrow as well.”

 

He pushed forward to kiss him a few more times.

 

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll go,” he stopped himself and pulled away, glad to see that Credence was smiling at him. He left the room reluctantly and went to the living room, grabbing a book at random and collapsing onto the couch. He opened the book and flipped through the pages idly, entertaining himself with thoughts of what Credence might be doing.

 

Imagining his long, slender limbs with droplets of water running down them, running a soapy sponge along his body, rinsing out his thick hair, Graves began to squirm in his seat, readjusting his hardening length. Fantasies of sneaking into the bathroom and assisting Credence in cleaning himself did not help his situation. Fighting down a heavy sense of guilt, he tried to recall what he’d seen of Credence’s naked body when he had rescued him from the lake. He couldn’t remember much, as he had been trying to grant Credence as much privacy as possible, but he had seen the pale, smooth cock nestled between his legs and the small patch of black curls.

 

It wasn’t overly large, he remembered, but bigger than he had imagined, and he expected it would be larger in the warm, soothing bathwater, standing at attention. He wondered if Credence would address it, dipping his hand under the water to caress himself, laying his head back against the rim of the tub and bucking up into his hand. Or maybe he would ignore it, let it pulse between his legs, a string of precum rising into the water until it dissolved.

 

Graves slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the desperate moan that escaped. He let his head fall back against the couch, weighing the pros and cons of just slipping into his bedroom and taking care of himself. It wasn’t as if Credence would ever know, and they were _soulmates,_ for Merlin’s sake!

 

 _Besides,_ he convinced himself, _it would be infinitely more appropriate than bursting into the bathroom and ravishing him then and there,_ which was a situation that was becoming increasingly more possible the longer he ignored the burning in his loins.

 

He crept down the hall quietly so Credence wouldn’t notice, but stopped at the bathroom door to listen in for a moment. He could hear water softly sloshing around, and Credence letting out a soft hum, which could have been innocent enough, but only served to fuel Percival’s arousal. He made the rest of the way to his room quickly and shut the door behind it, leaning against it while he tugged his pants off of his hips.

 

He pumped his cock roughly with his hand, using the free one to cover his mouth, as he internally scolded himself for being too overtaken to cast a silencing charm or _even get to the bed_. He only meant to quickly relieve himself, anyway, and forced his shame to the back of his mind. Still standing against the door, he brought his other hand up to his mouth and ran his tongue over it, leaving a thick trail of saliva, before resuming his ministrations, comparing his warm, wet hand to the imaginary inside of Credence’s mouth.

 

Credence’s mouth was gorgeous, made for sucking cock, with full, pink lips that reddened when he chewed on them nervously, and a slim, flexible tongue that Percival had gotten a peak at when the healers had treated him to lollipops and ice cream treats. He was such a glutton for anything sweet, Percival imagined coating himself in chocolate syrup and watching Credence lap it up desperately.

 

He groaned low in his throat as he came, sliding down the door and panting behind his hand. He stayed there for a minute or two before casting a cleaning charm and straightening his clothes, composing himself before returning to the living room. Credence was still bathing, so he picked up the book, which was now much easier to read.

 

Meanwhile!

 

Credence had never had a bubble bath before, and he played with the suds with childish delight, until he felt the potion sinking into his muscles and loosening them. He groaned in pleasure, closing his eyes to better focus on the sensation, and laid back against the tub gingerly, in case it was cold, but it was warm. The warmth engulfing him made his cock swell between his legs. Briefly, he tried to resist touching himself, not wanting to soil Mr. Graves’s bathtub with his sinfulness, but was too overwhelmed by the sensations to care. For once, he indulged himself without torturing himself with guilt.

 

He ran his hands slowly along his body, starting at his shoulders that felt as though they were being massaged by invisible hands, sliding over his chest and down to his stomach, pressing into the barely-there muscles. When he reached his pelvis, he stroked himself around the base of his cock, not wanting to rush it, wanting to take the time, for once, to explore his own body. He moved his fingers lower, gently fondling his swollen testes, finding that he liked it more than he thought he would. Continuing lower, he experimentally pressed one finger along his taint. He raised his hips, surprised at the sensation, and the tip of his finger slipped inside himself.

 

He didn’t even know what he was doing, only that it was wrong, sinful . . . and that made it all the more exciting. With one hand, he rubbed over his entrance, slipping in and out with his index finger, and with the other, he began stroking his cock like he had in the church more than two weeks ago. It was different now, better in so many ways. He was warm this time, and comfortable. His hands didn’t sting and his body didn’t ache. He didn’t have to curl up on a lumpy bed and face away from the window to hide his shame.

 

He stroked himself slowly, starting at the base and pulling upward, teasing the tip for a moment before returning to the base to start again. All the while, his other hand was fingering himself. He started going deeper, finding that he could take more and more as he went. Eventually, he added a second finger, scissoring and thrusting them inside himself, squirming around to get them deeper. Frustrated, he started working his dick harder and faster, stifling a whimper, and finally came, spurting into the suds.

 

Coming down from his high, he relaxed in the water and sighed blissfully, enjoying himself for a moment more before the guilt began to build.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first half of the trial commences, and Credence gets some well-deserved distraction at home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell look who it is!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Finally FINALLY got over my writer's block. Excuse the beginning, I pushed through it slowly but surely amidst the block, so that's why it sucks. The second half, however, sucks because it was the first time I ever wrote something so smutty.

Credence was fidgeting nervously in his seat. The trial was set much earlier than expected; they’d had only three days to prepare, though their lawyer had taken care of most of the work. They had spent a lot of time preparing Credence for the kinds of questions the prosecutor might ask him, so he won’t be unreasonably upset.

 

The lawyer was a kind, energetic woman named Juana Gonzales. She was short, with shoulder-length black hair that was usually up in pigtails or braids, and every day had a different color of bright lipstick. During the three days, she was constantly buzzing around, trying to get everything ready as fast as possible, always trying to get special allowances to make Credence more comfortable. Her strategy was to stick to the truth, because, like Graves, she believed that their testimonies would be enough to convince the judge, which would be Madame President herself.

 

All this time, Credence and Percival hadn’t had much time to talk, as Percival was busy working with Juana, and Credence was busy worrying. Now, they sat together on a bench, waiting for the signal to enter the courtroom, and Credence was trying his best not to panic.

 

“What if they decide I’m guilty?” Credence asked timidly.

 

“It’s not that kind of trial, my boy. They are deciding what to do with you, whether you should be allowed to live freely, learn magic, or have any restrictions.”

 

“Live freely? You mean . . .”

 

Graves sighed heavily. “There has been some talk . . . that it might be safer for you to be isolated from society. Which is ridiculous, of course; you and I both know there’s nothing wrong with you.”

 

“But . . . what if they do decide that?” Credence asked, eyes welling up with tears. He imagined himself locked away in a run-down castle tower somewhere far away, all alone, perhaps with a dragon standing guard, since he had recently learned of their existence.

 

“They won’t, Credence, I know they won’t, but if you’re worried, just know that whatever they decide, I’ll be right there with you.”

 

“They would let you come with me?”

 

“There are rules in place to protect a person’s rights to their soulmate, so most likely, I’ll be allowed to go with you anywhere. But, Credence, if I weren’t allowed . . . you must know, I wouldn’t allow us to be apart. I’d do anything to be with you. Now, this is going to be frightening, and overwhelming, but . . . if you get scared, just remember, Credence, whatever happens, we’ll be together.”

 

Credence nodded, trying to be brave, but he didn’t have long to gather his courage. The doors opened and a small group of uniformed officers escorted the two of them inside.

 

They entered a large room with ascending pews like an arena. The seats were packed with witches and wizards, all looking judgmentally at the pair. There were two tables, one with two men and a woman Credence had never seen before, and one with Juana and Tina and two empty chairs. Across from the tables was a long desk, raised imposingly high, where five important looking people sat. The woman in the center, Credence recognized, was the president.

 

Credence had frozen at the doorway, looking around at all of the people, and Percival had to nudge him forward. He approached the empty seat next to Tina on shaky legs. Percival followed, glaring daggers at the floor, which Madam Picquery noticed.

 

“Problem, Mr. Graves?”

 

“I didn’t realize this would be a public affair,” Graves replied derisively.

 

“The wizarding community is concerned for their safety,” she explained firmly as they took their seats. Credence realized, then, that there was a shimmering bubble around the two tables, protecting the judges and the civilians watching. There were also several stationed guards, and a thinner bubble protecting the table with the three strangers on it.

 

Credence took Percival’s hand under the table to try to calm himself. Juana was smiling calmly at him, looked relaxed and confident, and he hoped that was a good sign.

 

“First, I’d like to remind everyone that the purpose of this trial is to determine the best course of action in dealing with the Obscurial Credence Barebone. On the panel is Supreme Court Judge Melantha Peyton, New York State Senator Hillel Dresdner, President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America Seraphina Piquery, Supreme Court Judge Curt Blackburn, and, in place of our Director of Magical Security, Subdirector Jan Percy. The prosecution will be represented by Shaun Garner, and the defense represented by Juana Gonzales. We’ll proceed with the prosecutors opening statement.”

 

One of the men at the other table stood and approached the bench and took an oath before he addressed the court. “Ladies and gentlemen, the safety of the wizarding community is MACUSA’s top priority. Credence Barebone has proven to be a threat to our society, our secrecy, our very lives. My colleague, Miss Gonzales, believes that he is no longer a threat, but I believe that the risk is too great to ignore. I will be presenting evidence and testimonies that demonstrate the threat that we’re faced with.”

 

After he sat down, Madame Picquery thanked him and announced the defense’s opening statement. Juana gave Credence a kind smile before standing and approaching the bench to take her oath.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have not had an obscurial in America in over two centuries. This is due to MACUSA’s attention to locating and teaching the magical children of America. One of these children was lost to us, raising the possibility that countless others have been lost as well. We, as a community, have failed Credence Barebone, and it is our responsibility to make sure we rectify our mistake. It is my belief that the threat caused by the obscurus has been eradicated, and we now need to do what’s best for Credence, as should have been done when he was a child.”

 

Mr. Garner was allowed to call his witnesses first. He had several important people take the stand and asked them questions about the damage Credence had caused, the people he had killed. Credence looked down in shame as they painted a picture of an uncontrollable force wreaking havoc across the city and killing innocent no-majs. Juana was able to question each of them, but the most she seemed to do in their favor was get them to admit that they had observed the obscurus causing the damage, not Credence directly.

 

His heart stopped when they called the last witness of the day; Credence Barebone. Percival put an encouraging hand on his arm as he stood on shaking legs and tried to focus on walking to the bench. He barely managed to squeak out the oath before taking the stand, pressing his palms against his thighs to keep them from shaking.

 

“Mr. Barebone, you have heard the testimonies of several others today,” Mr. Garner began. “Is there anything you’ve heard that you believe to be untrue?”

 

Credence swallowed thickly. “No, sir.”

 

“Was anything said that you disagree with?”

 

“N-no, sir.”

 

“Do you believe that you are a danger to our community?”

 

Credence was startled by the question. “I-I don’t know.”

 

“Can you elaborate?”

 

“Um, well, I don’t think so, I don’t feel like I am, but . . . I was dangerous before, and I didn’t know it, so . . . I guess I c-could be . . .”

 

“Can you tell me about your relationship with Senator Shaw?”

 

“Well, there wasn’t really a relationship,” Credence answered with a shrug. “I only met him once.”

 

“And what happened on that occasion.”

 

Credence’s eyes burned with shameful tears at the memory. He knew what he was asking; they didn’t want to know about the Second Salemers trying to get into the paper, they wanted to know if he had any reason to want to kill the senator. “He called me a freak,” Credence admitted quietly.

 

“Can you tell me the date that this occurred?”

 

“November eighth, 1926.” Credence stared down at his lap, but he knew the crowd was glaring at him judgmentally. He had killed a man that had insulted him earlier that same day.

 

“Now, your relationship with your adoptive mother was, in a word, abusive. Can you tell us about the events that immediately preceded her death?”

 

Credence had to wipe at his eyes to keep the tears from spilling over. He refused to look up, though he tried to remember that Percival was there, watching him, supporting him. “She was very angry, she was going to hurt my little sister, but . . . I stopped her.”

 

“How did you do that?”

 

“I-I don’t know . . . I don’t remember . . . I was scared, and angry, and I thought I should do something, but then I . . . it was like I fell asleep, and I woke up, and the church was destroyed, and Ma was . . . she was dead . . .”

 

“Think about the other times the obscurus has manifested. Were they times when you were upset?”

 

“Yes,” Credence admitted, “always.”

 

“Since the removal of the obscurus, have you become upset in a way that would have previously set off the obscurus?”

 

Credence furrowed his brow to think. He had been nervous and afraid, but nothing like he had been before, not with his friends and Mr. Graves helping him. “No, I don’t think so.”

 

“So, there hasn’t been a proficient test as to whether or not the obscurus remains?”

 

“Mr. Scamander said it’s gone, and I’ve even seen it, so . . .”

 

The crowd gasped when he said that. “What do you mean, you’ve seen it?” Mr. Garner asked.

 

“Mr. Scamander keeps it in a bubble to study it. He has two of them, I’ve seen them both.”

 

“How did you react to seeing it?”

 

Credence hesitated. “I was a little scared, at first. But . . . it didn’t seem like a part of me. The other one was there, it’s a lot smaller than mine, but they didn’t seem much different. Then it made me feel better, a little, to see it outside of me.”

 

At the end of the day, when Credence’s eyes burned with exhaustion, the judges decided that a recess would be appropriate, and they would reconvene the next day, when Mrs. Gonzales would present her case. Credence felt sick to his stomach, and he followed Percival with his head hung low in shame, thinking about all that had been said about him. It seemed impossible that anyone could sympathize with him. He had been painted as a monster, a murderer, and from his own mouth, he had admitted that they were right.

 

Percival was patient with him; one arm around his shoulders as they walked to a designated Apparating area, and then to their apartment. He kissed him gently on the forehead before beginning to take of his coat, Credence following suit, but at a slower pace.

 

“Mr. Graves . . .” Credence muttered.

 

Percival sighed at the formality. “Yes, Credence?”

 

“I was wondering . . . well, never mind.”

 

“No, Credence. If you want something, ask for it. The worst that can happen is I’ll say no.”

 

Credence nodded. “Well . . . I was wondering . . . could I stay with you tonight?” His face reddened and he looked down bashfully. “In your bed, I mean. . . I just feel a little afraid to be by myself.”

 

Percival bit his lip to keep from smiling inappropriately. “Of course, Credence. I’d like that very much.”

 

Credence looked up with a relieved smile. “Really? You . . . you wouldn’t mind?”

 

Chuckling lightly, Percival took Credence in his arms and held him tightly. “I’d love it, Credence. Go and get your pajamas, I’ll wait for you in my room.”

 

Credence hurried to get changed. Percival had bought him some new pajamas, but they were plain and comfortable, and he wished he had something prettier for what he had planned, something like the satin and lace chemises that lewdly adorned shop windows in the less savory parts of town. Then again, he likely wouldn’t look good in something like that, and he didn’t want to seem too obvious anyway.

 

He didn’t join Percival right away, waiting a moment to gather his courage, and to prepare himself for possible rejection. When he finally entered Percival’s room, he found him sitting up in bed with the bedside lamp on, waiting patiently for him.

 

Percival smiled pleasantly at Credence. “Come along, then, we’d better get to sleep. We have to wake up early tomorrow.”

 

Credence tried not to let his disappointment show as he climbed into the other side of the bed, and Percival slid down to lay next to him, shutting off the lamp with a flick of wandless magic. The light of a full moon shining through a gap in the curtains kept it bright enough for them to see each other as they lay facing one another.

 

“Mr. Graves? I mean, Percival?” Credence asked quietly.

 

“Yes, love?”

 

“Do you ever . . . feel lonely, even when you’re with someone?”

 

“What do you mean?” Percival asked, resting his forehead against Credence’s affectionately.

 

“It’s like . . . I’m so consumed in my own thoughts, there’s so much going on in my head that I can’t focus on reality. I’m all alone in my head, even though you’re right here with me.”

 

“I think I understand, Credence. I know you must be worried about tomorrow, and I wouldn’t expect any less. I’m terrified, myself, even though I know nothing bad will happen. Thinking about it, really, I can’t imagine anything going wrong, but I suppose, with something as important as this, I can’t help but worry.”

 

Credence blushed, though Percival couldn’t see it in the dim light. “Yes, well . . . worrying has never done any good, and I probably won’t be able to sleep with all of these thoughts. . . I think, maybe, we should – I mean _you_ should – I mean, I would like it if . . . you would distract me.”

 

Percival raised his eyebrows. “Distract you, Credence? How would you like me to do that?”

 

Credence squirmed awkwardly. “W-well . . . you’ve mentioned some things before, intimate things . . . you’ve said you want to be with me. I want that, too. I want . . . I want everything. All of you. As much as you can give me.”

 

“I . . . I want that, too, Credence,” Percival sighed, “but I don’t know if it’s a good idea . . . are you sure you’re ready?”

 

“I’m ready,” Credence replied resolutely. “I want it, and I need it. It will make me feel better. I just . . . I don’t know what to do, so you’ll have to tell me, or guide me . . .”

 

“Alright, Credence,” Percival whispered, giving him a languid kiss. He gently pushed Credence’s shoulder to make him lay on his back, and Percival rolled to hover over him. Continuing to kiss him, He began unbuttoning Credence’s pajama shirt. Credence squirmed in embarrassment and excitement, returning Percival’s kisses as well as he could.

 

Percival trailed kisses down his neck as he slid his shirt off his shoulders, making Credence let out small gasps. With his chest bared, Percival bent down and ran his tongue up the entire length of Credence’s soul mark, and Credence gave an embarrassingly loud moan that was only quieted when Percival’s mouth returned to his own.

 

Credence moved his shaking hands up to Percival’s chest to unbutton his shirt, but his clumsy hands could only get the first few buttons undone, so Percival helped him by pulling the shirt off over his head. Credence wanted to ask if he could touch him, but he also didn’t want to speak, and he wanted to be daring, so he boldly ran his hands up Percival’s chest and over his shoulders, feeling every well-defined muscle, marveling at how warm he was. He didn’t get a chance to feel insecure about his own body before he was distracted by Percival grinding his still clothed erection against Credence’s. Credence reflexively bucked his hips up, but he tried to hold himself back, not wanting it to end too soon.

 

“Credence,” Percival said breathlessly. “I want to do something. You tell me to stop if you don’t like it, alright?”

 

Credence nodded eagerly, and Percival grabbed his wand from the nightstand. With a small wave, both of their pants were pulled off of them, and Percival laughed breathily to discover that neither of them had worn underwear. Again, just as Credence was beginning to feel self-conscious, he was startled by an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation, this time from inside him. It felt like when he had touched himself in the bath, something stretching him open and filling him with a warm liquid.

 

“Are you alright?” Percival asked, and Credence nodded again. “If you want me to stop, I’ll stop. If it hurts, or if it’s uncomfortable, or if you don’t like it for any reason . . .”

 

“Please,” Credence moaned. “I want it . . .”

 

That was all the persuasion Percival needed. He pulled Credence’s knees up, lined himself up with Credence’s entrance, and slid in gently.

 

The joining of two soulmates, especially for the first time, is said to be the greatest experience anyone can ever have. No-maj’s and wizards alike have claimed it to be unlike any other thrill or joy imaginable. As Percival sank himself deeper and deeper until he was pressing his hips against Credence, he felt the tingling sensation on his soul mark once again, stronger than ever before, a feeling not unlike the pulsing pleasure in his cock. Credence was experiencing the same phenomenon with his soul mark, and they moaned together.

 

Experimentally, Credence moved his hands from around Percival’s shoulders to around his waist, massaging the skin that he knew had his name emblazoned on it. Percival gasped and shuddered at the sensation, responding with small thrusts of his hips, into his body and then into his hands, and he curled his fists into the sheets to keep himself grounded. After regaining a bit of his coherence, he moved one of his hands to stroke Credence’s soul mark, making him whimper and moan wantonly.

 

Credence began thrusting his hips again, trying to increase the friction, and resisted touching himself in order to savor the moment. Percival kept his speed slow, but started pulling himself out until it was just the tip, then sinking all the way back in. He kept this pace until Credence gave up on his restraint and reached between them to fist at his cock, at which time Percival got to his knees, lifted Credence’s hips, and started thrusting into him hard and fast, leaving them both panting and gasping at the intensity of it.

 

“P-Percival!” Credence cried out as he came, squeezing his eyes shut against his tears as he clutched Percival closer to him. Percival came soon after, as Credence clenched around his manhood.

 

“Yes, yes, Credence!” he gasped. “I love you, you’re perfect, I love you . . .”

 

Percival collapsed on the bed next to Credence, and they turned to face each other like they had before. As they lay, catching their breath, Percival had the sense of mind to cast a cleaning charm, which made Credence frown and curl up closer to him.

 

“That,” Credence said, “that was amazing . . . I had no idea . . . that it would be so . . .”

 

“Incredible? Magnificent? Thrilling?”

 

“Yes . . . all of those things, and every word man ever thought of to describe any beautiful and pleasurable thing.”

 

“You’re poetic when you come,” Percival observed with a small laugh.

 

“The only poetry I need is your name,” Credence muttered sleepily, and Percival laughed delightedly at that, too, and held him close as they both fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment so I know you're still there

**Author's Note:**

> Please follow me on Tumblr, I sometimes post little Gradence drabbles
> 
> http://shreikingbeauty.tumblr.com/


End file.
